One Day at A Time
by Niemand5
Summary: A new DADA professor joins the Hogwarts staff and has to deal with classes, an angry Snape who wishes he had the DADA position himself, and family trouble arising from the past. An alternate 6th year, where not everything is as it seems. Complete.
1. Prologue

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Prologue**

_I don't know why I did it._ That's one thought that was always on my mind. When the spell was over and my hand was still holding the wand it felt like it was the only thing I could have done, but I was starting to question that.

I was pondering this one day, when I was informed that I had a visitor. I vaguely glanced at the smooth stone walls of the room I was waiting in and wondered what the weather outside was like; I had not been outside today and there were no windows in this room. "Hello, Liseli," Dumbledore greeted me when he entered the room. The twinkle was gone from his blue eyes, and instead a heavy sadness rested on his face. "I'm sorry to have to see you under these terms. I have—ah—been informed of everything, already." I averted my gaze, feeling as though I was physically unable to meet his eyes. "Why did you do it?" there was almost a soft curiosity in his voice.

"I-I don't know. I d-don't know why anybody does anything, anymore," I stuttered.

He was looking at me intently, even though I refused to meet his eyes. As though he had not heard my response, he repeated his question, "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know why," I repeated again, as though that phrase was a shield which would protect me. Yet every time I said that phrase aloud I felt something deep within me twinge, a small part of me which hissed "Ah, but you do know why. You just don't want to admit it." Dumbledore sighed, and the small room filled with a silence, a screaming, suffocating silence. "I wonder—" I started before I abruptly cut myself off.

"Wonder what?" the white-haired man asked.

"I wonder how much we're a product of our environment, and how much we're a product of—of something else," I lamely stated. I was replaying a question that I had shared with someone else. It had only been a little over half a year ago and yet somehow it seemed as though years, decades, had gone by since it.

"I told Harry something once. I said that it is our choices that show what we truly are, but I think I should have said it is our choices that make us what we are." He said it in a final, all-knowing tone, as though he was stating the answer to a simple arithmetic problem.

I thought back to the first time I had had this conversation, and to the path that had led me to my current situation. I suppose if I wanted to tell the whole story I'd have to start with my childhood, but I don't really want to discuss that. Instead, I'm going to start with the year that I took the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. 1996. Harry Potter's sixth year…

…

Disclaimer: I don't own Dumbledore or his world. I do, however, own Liseli.

A/N: Just as a general note, my chapters are longer than this; this is short just because it's the prologue. Also, those of you who have read this story before have probably noticed that I rewrote the prologue again, but I'm 99.9% sure this is the last time.


	2. The Beginning

_**One Day At A Time**_

**The Beginning**

That year, Harry's sixth, the Defense Against the Dark Arts spot had stayed open all summer. Rumor was the Ministry was saying they'd have to assign someone again, something they were hesitant to do considering what had happened the last time they did that. But they had resigned to doing that only at the latest possible moment, also know as the day before Hogwarts commenced.

I applied for the job two days before Hogwarts commenced.

I don't know why I didn't apply earlier. I suppose it was because although I knew the spot was open the idea of me—_me—_being a Hogwarts professor seemed laughable. Me, a professor. Impossible!

But, as I soon found out, it was reality. I hadn't actually planned on taking the position at first, it just kind of…happened. I wondered what it would be like to be a professor and soon a half-formed day dream started running around my head. When I finally gathered the courage to talk to Dumbledore he was so eager I felt like I couldn't say no. So I said yes.

Perhaps I should clarify what my job was before this incident. I had been a private tutor, teaching mostly wealthy Pure-Blooded children who had chosen not to go to a Preparatory school. In the summer, when these children wanted a break, I would help Hogwarts-aged students with spells they could not perform. Almost all of these were Half-Blooded students—not because of discrimination on my part but more because of those who came to me. Muggle-born witches and wizards didn't seem to be aware tutors existed and I certainly didn't make my presence known to them. Pure-Blooded children didn't seem to want tutors after they had entered Hogwarts and that left the Half-Bloods. The only Pure-Blood I have a memory of teaching in the summer was Neville Longbottom and, Merlin, was that boy clumsy! Almost took my eye out with his wand the summer before his 2nd year.

But, I digress. I believe it was because my past as a tutor that Dumbledore hired me so readily. Either that or because it was two days before the school year started. Your pick. Whatever his reason, the end result was that I had two days to read over all of the student portfolios and plan a week's worth of lessons; thankfully Dumbledore took care of the placement of sixth year students. The day Hogwarts started I was so tired from going through different lesson plans I forgot entirely about the Hogwarts' express. And that's how I was left, after Apparating three times, trudging across the impossibly wide grassy field of Hogwarts.

"Cursed Anti-Apparation field," I mumbled to myself. "I'm going to make a laughingstock of my self, I just know it. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm late to the Sorting, too." I continued making my way to the large stone castle that was Hogwarts. "Why did I take this job?" I quietly exclaimed to myself, doubt starting to gnaw away at me. "Didn't I consider the danger? The reward, yes, but at the same time…what about all those other teachers? All of my predecessors have had horrible fates and what makes me think I will be any different? Oh, I'll be dead in a week, I know it."

The castle, and with it the welcoming stone archways, were coming closer. I quickened my pace and grumbled at the dew wetting the bottom of my robes. I wanted to set a good first impression and having damp robes wasn't the way to go around doing it. All of the teachers were older than me and I was aware that by now the DADA position must not be taken very seriously, considering its unfortunate past.

I let out a sigh and shook the grass from my boots as I entered Hogwarts. Judging by all the noise the sorting was over and the feast had begun. I carefully entered the Great Hall and looked up towards the teacher's table, where I saw an empty setting. Walking briskly, I took my seat and tried very hard to not attract any attention to myself.

"Ah, you're finally here, Liseli!"

I couldn't help but cringe as Dumbledore spoke directly to me, causing all of the other professors to look at the new arrival.

"Yes," I said with slightly embarrassed smile, "my apologies for being late." I thought about adding an explanation but decided against it.

"I'm just glad you're here," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Considering our track record with Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I was afraid some horrible catastrophe might have occurred to you before you'd even set foot inside the school."

I gave him a smile, unsure of what I could say, and continued putting food on my plate, glancing around at the other professors all the meanwhile. Many of them had been my teachers when I attended Hogwarts and there was only a few I didn't recognize. One of these, the man sitting to my left, I seemed to have to ticked off in my mere five minutes of being here. And when I say ticked off I _mean_ ticked off. He was glaring at me as if my mere presence insulted him. After about five minutes of this, I became rather annoyed and decided he was some snooty Pure-Blood who would have all of the teachers be male Pure-Bloods of high standing if he had any say. _But you don't have any say_, I thought to myself, becoming rather gleeful at his anger.

"What do you teach?" I said in a happy tone of voice, secretly hoping to annoy him more.

He looked rather surprised at being addressed before a sneer formed on his face. "I happen to be the Potions Master here."

"That's nice," I said giving him a big happy smile before I returned to my plate. I secretly gave myself a real smile, feeling as though I had succeeded in my personal mission of proving I wasn't going to be afraid of him, just because he already seemed to hate me so much.

After that he didn't look at me for the rest of the meal.

"Attention Students," Dumbledore started, standing up from his seat at the head of the table. Immediate silence followed. "I hope you have enjoyed the food and soon you will be off to bed, but before you do that, I want to say a few brief words. The first of these will be used to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Liseli Colburn!" I felt like a deer in the headlights. Every student in the Great Hall was looking towards me.

"Stand up, dear!" I heard a voice in my right ear. I stood up, mindlessly following the command, and gave a nervous smile. The applause died down and I took my seat again, my heart hammering as though I had just run a mile. Dumbledore quickly finished his announcements and dismissed us, leaving me wondering where I should go now.

I looked towards the professor to my right, Professor Sprout, and asked her where my sleeping quarters were. I felt rather stupid having to ask her, but Dumbledore had already left and I hadn't visited Hogwarts in the days before session started.

"Ah, let's see, for you they'll be by the…you were in Slytherin during your school days, correct?"

I nodded. Normally the word "Slytherin" is said with great contempt and prejudice but when she said the word it held none of that.

"Then you'll have to ask the head of the Slytherin house to show you. Teacher's quarters are normally somewhat near to the common room of their house," she explained, while I nodded along and pretended I had already known this.

"Who is the head of Slytherin?" I tried to ask with all the casualness I could muster.

"Ah," she started, slightly distracted, "Snape is. Snape!" she called him.

I tried very hard to keep the shock off my face. I had only known Snape vaguely in my Hogwarts years but it was not exactly a positive image I associated him with. When I was a first year Snape was a third and already he had a reputation for cursing others when they got in his way. I always got the impression he wasn't very in control of his powers, or at least if he was, he wasn't very mature in using them. I recalled secretly thinking that someday he and his attitude would tick off someone far more powerful than himself and he'd end up dead in an alley somewhere. But, if sounds weren't deceiving, this wasn't true, and he had even managed to obtain enough self-control to become a professor.

The man who had been glaring at me during the meal swept over to Professor Sprout. "Yes?" he spoke rather icily.

_That _was Snape? _Him? _But his personality was so…so…un-Snapeish! _Well_, I thought_, I suppose the glare is kind of Snapeish_; he always seemed to think he was better than other people. But now, at least, he was more like a grown-up Snape (which actually made quite a bit of sense). He looked rather similar to his seventh year self also. Why hadn't I recognized him sooner? I thought and quickly realized it was because I hadn't been expecting to see him anytime soon, and especially not here, at Hogwarts.

"Fine, I'll show her the route," Snape told Professor Sprout, giving me a sideways glare. I frowned at him slightly in a way which, I hope, told him I wouldn't be intimidated.

The menacing black bat—sorry, Snape--swept off without a word and I followed wordlessly behind him, trying desperately to catch up with his long strides.

It was rather comforting to be back in Hogwarts, actually. A bit like returning home after a long day. Oddly enough, Hogwarts seemed much more like a home than the apartment I was currently renting. I wasn't quite sure if I'd still feel that way when I saw my new quarters, but I decided to savor the feeling while I possessed it.

"Your room's behind this painting," Snape quickly stated in a tone as cold as the dungeons we were in. "Set your own password, I have other business to attend to," he finished, turning around and stalking off down the narrow hallway. I glared at his retreating figure and resisted the rather childish, but strong, urge to stick my tongue out at him. Instead, with a final glare, I turned towards the portrait and set the password, telling the painting to use it for a month before allowing me to change it.

I looked around the room. It was rather nice, actually. Large with a green and silver sheeted bed in the middle. There were a few portraits on the wall but they were all landscapes, meaning no intruding heads trying to talk to me while I was trying to sleep. I glanced around a bit more and saw my clothes had been put away by house elves and that I had my own, attached, bathroom (also green and silver).

I let out a yawn and laid down on my bed. Hugging one of the various pillows I looked up at the ceiling and smiled. It was so comforting to be back at Hogwarts, and in this room, where the green and silver of Slytherin could wash over me like gentle waves, I finally felt like I was at home.

….

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world. I do, however, own Liseli Colburn.

A/N: The only way I can see my mistakes is if you lend me your eyes…leave me a review on your way out.


	3. Class's Start

_**One Day at A Time**_

**Class's Start**

My hands were shaking. I glanced up at the clock and saw it was 8:45. Class would be starting soon. Taking a steadying breath, I looked down at my lesson plans and cursed whoever who had stuck me with a 6th year class first thing. I had been hoping I would have first or second years: clean slates that would look towards this class without the carried cynicisms of older students.

I heard voices approaching. The first two students entered, presumably friends, although their conversation died off in the silence of the classroom and my presence. I kept my head down and continued looking at the sheets in front of me. They were just attendance lists but I didn't know what else to do and I wanted to look busy. Were all teachers this nervous their first day? It seemed so natural to them; I couldn't imagine McGonagall or Dumbledore being anything besides their confident self.

Another problem I had (on top of all my others) was that I wasn't really sure how I wanted students to see me. I didn't want to be seen as an easy, gullible teacher, but at the same time I didn't really want to be feared (not that I could pull that off anyway). I suppose I wanted a combination of admiration and respect but I figured I would never be able to get that; I was too eager and nervous at the same time.

Student three entered the classroom, soon followed by student four. I glanced up to see their arrival but looked down at my desk again once they had taken their seats. I noticed that all four of the students had pulled out their wand and a Defense Against the Dark Arts book I had never seen before. A few more students came in and, looking around, followed the suit already set by the previous students. There was a swell in the noise within the adjacent hallway and I guessed that most of my students would be entering soon, a hypothesis that was realized.

At 8:55 all, or almost all of my students, were present and I decided to start class. Gathering my nerves I grabbed the attendance sheet and stood in front of my desk, leaning against it. The quiet chatter which had formed disappeared and I felt rather exposed without, although I knew I should have been happy they were silent.

"Hello, class!" I brightly started. I could hear my voice: I sounded like an idiot. I wondered if it was too late to say I didn't want the job. "So before we can start anything exciting I have to take roll, so just say 'here' when I call your name." Merlin, I sounded like an idiot. "Hannah Abbot."

"Here," a blonde-haired girl near the back of the class said, raising her hand.

"Lavender Brown."

"Here," a girl, one of the first two to have entered the class, said.

What seemed like 552 names later I had barely passed the half way point.

"Parvati Patil."

Lavender's friend raised her hand.

With great effort I managed to read the next name just as I had read all the others. "Harry Potter."

"Here," a messy-haired boy with glasses said. I took note of who he was sitting with: a bushy-haired girl who I vaguely recalled as Hermione and a Weasley (I didn't know which one, yet).

Another 552 names later I had finished with the attendance and found out the name of the Weasley which was Harry's friend (Ron).

"Okay, so, now that that's done," I started setting down the sheet of paper on the desk behind me, "We can start today's lesson. First thing I'm going to ask you to do is put your books away," _I've never seen them before, anyway_, I added mentally as I noted the smiles flitting across some of their faces. No books. That was a good thing as far as all students were concerned. I just hoped they'd still be happy by the end of the class period; I wasn't sure how interesting the rest of my lesson plan was. One of the most difficult aspects of the lessons I had planned was that I really had no idea what they had learned. Sure, there were records of what they'd _technically_ learned but I never really trusted those, especially when a quick cramming session the night before could give the appearance they really knew the material. That combined with their shaky past in Defense Against the Dark Arts made me wonder how much of the past years I would have to recap, or go over for the first time. "All you need is your wand, your quill and some parchment," I stated before adding, "We are going to have our lesson by the lake today." The class started murmuring and I thought (or maybe just hoped) that a few of the students were exchanging excited looks.

By the time we reached the lake I was even more nervous than I had been at the start. I told the class to take a seat and was slightly surprised at how easily they followed my orders. I guess I was still waiting for it to hit me that I was a professor. "Who can tell me what lives in the lake?" I asked, delving into the lesson I had planned immediately.

Hesitantly some hands rose, perhaps a bit less than half the class. The bushy-haired girl nearby Harry (I had already forgotten her name) raised her hand very enthusiastically and indeed seemed as if she would burst if she didn't state the answer.

"Yes, you," I said pointing towards the girl. "What's your name?" I asked in the moment before she answered.

"Hermione Granger," she stated.

"Okay, Hermione, what lives in Hogwarts' lake?" I repeated the question.

"The three main occupants of the lake are merpeople, grindylows and the giant squid," she stated factually.

"Very good," I said, wishing I knew her House so I could reward it with a few points. "What do you know about the Merpeople?" I continued.

Hermione raised her hand again but this time she was the only one until Harry (with a bit of prodding from Ron, I noticed) also did the same.

"Harry," I called upon him.

"Their language, Mermish, sounds like a series of high-pitched screeches above the water although below the water it sounds different. Wizards and witches can successfully learn the language and the merpeople in this lake, at least, carry spears," he explained. The red-haired Weasley whispered some words in the other boy's ears, causing the messy-haired boy to smile.

"Very good," I spoke. "Now who can tell me about grindylows?" Almost of the class raised their hand, some more hesitantly than others. "You," I said, pointing towards a boy in the front row.

"Ernie Macmillan," he replied before I could ask what his name was. "Grindylows are small water demons. Although they posses fangs they tend to attack their prey by grabbing onto it with their long fingers. The trick is to break these fingers if you're ever dragged down by one."

"Excellent representation of knowledge," I said, slightly surprised about how much the class knew.

"Professor Lupin taught us about grindylows," the boy clarified, the rest of the class giving a murmur of agreement behind him.

"Okay," I nodded. "Actually I wanted to ask you guys about what you'd learned in the previous years. Can someone just give me a quick summary of what you learned each year?" I asked, stating my goal point-blank.

A familiar boy with a chubby face raised his hand. "Yes, Neville?" I said with a slight smile, vaguely wondering if he remembered that I had tutored him once several years ago.

"Professor Lupin taught us about boggarts, red caps, grindylows, kappas, and a bunch of other creatures. Professor Moody—or rather his imposter—taught us about curses, including the Unforgivables," he added the last part in a quieter voice.

I frowned slightly trying to figure out the math. "What did Professor Quirrel teach you?" I asked, wondering why Neville had only mentioned two of their five teachers.

Quiet murmurs passed between classmates and no one raised their hand. Finally Hermione spoke aloud, "With Quirrel we more learned out of a book," she slowly stated. "I think we learned some basic defense spells in our first year, though," the bushy-haired girl added.

"And Lockhart?" I inquired, not bothering to add the prefix "professor".

At his name a few snickers passed through the class. "We learned not to release pixies!" Ron jubilantly exclaimed. At this the class laughed out loud and I myself couldn't help but smile.

"And Umbridge?" I asked, already having a pretty clear idea of what had happened last year.

"We didn't learn anything!" an unknown voice near the back of the class angrily yelled.

I nodded in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. "Okay. What defensive curses do most of you know?" I asked, wondering if I would have to catch them up on three years of counter-curses.

"Expelliarmus!" One student yelled out.

"Stupefy!" Another followed.

"Silencio!" The suit seemed to have been set.

"Impedimenta!"

"Tarantallegra!" Laughter followed this one.

"Protego!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Okay, good!" I said, cutting off any more students who were about to yell out spell names. "Good," I reiterated, "You seem to know some pretty important incantations. Have any of you learned about dueling?" Some of the students raised their hand, a disappointingly low amount considering they were in their sixth year. "Okay, we'll go over dueling in more depth later, but for now would someone like to show the class a brief dual? We'll need two people." A greater number of students raised their hands than before. "You," I said pointing to yet another boy I didn't know, ("Justin Finch-Fletchley," he answered) "and you," I said pointing towards Harry's red-haired friend who also gave me his name before leaping up and walking to the front of the class with Justin.

I moved off to the side of the class and subtly took my wand out, just in case the duel got out of hand.

The two boys nervously faced each other. They seemed somewhat unsure and both of them glanced at me several times. "You can start anytime," I said, wondering whether the cause of their reluctance was because they didn't know how to start or because they didn't want to duel each other.

Slowly and nervously the two boys bowed to each other, neither fully bowing nor turning their faces towards the ground. They both took a more offensive stance but neither said anything nor attempted an attack for the next few moments until Ron said suddenly: "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego!_" Justin quickly said, the shield charm defending him from the disarming blast of red light. "_Stupey!_" he countered.

Ron quickly ducked, the stunning spell soaring over his head. "_Vuleravisti!_" he yelled.

Justin took a sharp intake of breath as the stinging hex hit his shoulder. "_Impedimenta!_"

Ron used the same shield charm Justin had performed just moments earlier. "_Silencio!_"

Justin opened his mouth to utter another curse, an expelliarmus by the looks of it, but nothing came out. Shocked, the boy opened his mouth several more times but not a sound left it.

I stepped forward. "Justin is unable to cast any more spells, the dual is over and Ron is the winner. Proper dual etiquette states that once the duel is over the two parties shake hands," Justin was nervously holding his throat, "And remove any curses they cast on the other," I finished, noticing the look of relief on the Hufflepuff's face.

They stepped forward and shook the other boy's hand, a friendly smile on each of their faces. "Good duel," Ron said, while Justin wordlessly nodded before pointing towards his throat, reminding the red-haired boy he still couldn't speak yet. "Oh, right," Ron spoke. "Er—I actually don't know the counter-curse. We haven't learned that yet in charms..." he trailed off, both of the boys now looking towards me, Ron with a combination of embarrassment and pleading and Justin with something between worry and fear.

"Here," I said smiling slightly as I pointed my wand towards Justin and stated the counter-charm. "_Profari!_"

"Thanks," he said, relief evident on his face at being able to speak.

"You two may take your seats, you did very well," I replied to both of them, smiling. "That was an example of one of two types of duels," I started speaking to the class. "It used to be that there that was only one type, but dueling, just like many other subjects, has evolved somewhat over the years." I noticed Hermione had raised her hand. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Should we be taking notes on this?" I noticed that already she was holding her quill in her hand.

I thought for a moment. Already I had moved far away from my previous lesson plan of talking about the variations in magical creatures depending on where they lived, using the merpeople as an example. But I had gone with the flow of the class so far, and decided I should keep with that idea. "Yes, Hermione, I think that's a very good idea. Why don't all of you take notes?" I asked a rhetorical question before continuing my lecture. "Now, dueling has changed quite a bit over the years. It used to be only one type of dueling existed: a duel to the death. This type of duel was used in olden times as a way to settle disputes between families or individuals in an honorable manner. In those duels there would almost always be a double for each wizard and this double would take his comrade's spot once he died and continue the fighting. Nowadays this type of dueling is rarely used and instead has mostly been replaced by a slightly different type of dueling. This newer type of dueling has far lower mortality rates as instead of being over when the opponent is dead it is over when the opponent is fully incapacitated or unable to battle anymore. In this type of duel apparition is also often allowed, within certain boundaries, while in a duel to the death it is not. Both types of duels begin with a respectful bow to the other and this respect is, in honorable duels, maintained throughout the entire duel until the end, when the two competitors remove any curses and shake hands. In a duel to the death the end is slightly different, of course. In olden times, when this type of duel was more common, the ending ritual consisted of the winner giving the deceased a moment of quiet respect with a bowed head before leaving without a word to anyone, for it was considered bad luck. " Quills were scribbling frantically. I paused for a moment and hoped I wasn't talking too quickly. A few of the students looked up expectantly but I waited until all of the quills were still, a sign they had finished writing.

"Because it's your first day back from summer, that'll be the extent of the notes we take today," I spoke, noticing the class's happiness at this. "For our next class session we are going to over some of the more common spells used in dueling, counter-curses, hexes, et cetera. This will be an ongoing unit and by the end of it I expect all of you to be able to play both the offensive and the defensive side of a duel successfully. This will require both practice and dedication on your part and I expect nothing less than your best." I paused here for emphasis; I wanted to send a strong last impression. "Given that class will be ending soon I think it is about time we returned to the classroom. You may chat quietly on the way back."

The class period ended very soon after we had finally arrived at the classroom. I felt exhausted after that long speech, the very large amount of improvisation, and the last strict speech I had given, which was very out of character for me, but still I managed to sit up straight and shuffle the papers on my desk in an official-looking way. I felt a great deal of relief when the sixth years shuffled out of the classroom, holding their bulging book bags and talking amongst themselves.

I looked up as one of the students timidly approached my desk. Hermione Granger, I thought to myself, trying to secure her name in my brain. I noticed that Harry and his red-haired friend were both with her, albeit a bit closer to the back of the classroom.

"Professor Colburn?" she nervously asked.

"Yes?" I asked in a tone of voice that I hoped came across as interested and kind.

"I'm sorry; I don't quite understand what we're supposed to do for homework…"she trailed off and I finally understood why she was nervous; she was afraid I would think she hadn't been paying attention for not knowing what the homework is.

"There's no homework today," I explained. I saw the two boys at the back of the classroom brighten considerably and give each other excited looks.

"Oh, okay," she said in a much lighter tone of voice. "Thank you for clarifying that."

"And thank you for not giving us homework!" Weasley blurted out, Hermione hitting him on the shoulder for that comment. "Oh, come on! You know Snape is going to give us a huge essay, it'd be just like him," the red-haired boy complained to the girl next to him in a much quieter tone of voice, words I obviously wasn't supposed to hear.

I simply smiled as the three friends left my classroom, still joking and talking. One lesson down, who-knows how many left to go.

….

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world.

A/N: (HBP SPOILERS!!!) So, here's the deal. This story conflicts utterly and completely with Harry Potter and Half-Blood prince. However, I've had this idea in my head for a really long time and I'm not giving it up without a fight. I will try and follow some of the same events in HBP (like Katie receiving the necklace) but, obviously, there will be no Slughorn as she took the position of DADA. As far as Snape…you'll have to wait to find out how I portray Snape.

Incantation Explanation: "Vuleravisti," the incantation given here for the stinging hex, is created by my Latin-speaking friend (lumiereal) and I, although the hex itself was created by J.. "Profari," the incantation given here to un-silence Justin Finch-Fletchey, was also created by me.

Review Responses: 

**lumiereal: **Thank you for reviewing my story and, as you can see, I have posted the next two chapters.


	4. Finishing the First Week of Classes

_**One Day at A Time**_

**Finishing the First Week of Classes**

Thankfully, after the 6th years I had only younger students to teach. Granted, there were not many in the school who were older than 6th years, but thinking of it that way made the rest of my classes during the day seem substantially less intimidating. The rest of the day passed only slightly less nerve-wrackingly than my first class, and by dinner time I went to the professor's table in the Great Hall mentally exhausted. I had only managed to hold to a couple of my lesson plans, and I had never seen a single one of the textbooks before, which meant that by the weekend I would have seven books to become well-acquainted with. And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be giving the homework.

Professor Sprout cheerfully smiled at me as I sat down for dinner. "Hello m'dear, how did your first day go?"

I weakly smiled back before reaching for some mashed potatoes and replying "It was alright. I have no clue how I'm going to learn all of the students names!" I said, picking the least of my problems to mention, since I didn't want to appear like a particularly negative person. Speaking of negative, I saw a black cape with stringy black hair and a sallow face take the seat directly to my left. I turned more towards my right to face Sprout, figuring that Snape, sitting on my left, would have nothing positive to say about any of my comments.

"Oh, it gets easier" she chuckled. "The more years you're here the less names you have to learn, because then you only have to learn the incoming class's names."

I smiled and turned back towards my mashed potatoes, "Hopefully I'll make it that long. From what I've heard, this position doesn't exactly have a track-record for long-lasting professors."

"No. It doesn't," I heard the silky voice from my left. Damn! And here I was hoping to avoid any conversation with Snape. _It's not a conversation if I don't say anything back_, I told myself.

Professor Sprout hesitated for a second, and continued "Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to stay as long as you like. You seem like a very competent professor," she smiled again, while cutting her meatloaf.

"Not that that's saying very much considering who's held that position in the past," the loathing voice from my left came again. My mind was mildly taken back. I mean, really, was it possible for him to be more negative?

I decided to ignore him completely and instead turned to Professor Sprout, "So how were your classes?"

"They were very pleasant. It's so wonderful watching students just suck up all of the knowledge to be learned, like a large pot of dry soil being watered!" She couldn't help but excitedly smile while saying this, and despite her age she briefly reminded me of a school girl. "There's one student, Neville Longbottom, I don't know if you've had him yet, who got some more magical plants over the summer that he just couldn't wait to show me, and they were so interesting! He's really such an excellent student."

"Ah, so Longbottom only fails at _almost_ everything, not quite everything" Snape said in his sarcastic, hateful tone of voice that I was starting to think was just his default tone.

"So how did _your _classes go?" I said turning towards him, unable to restrain myself any longer. "It sounds like they must have not gone very well, if you're in such a negative mood."

"Oh no, they went absolutely smashingly, if you include the absence of Potter and Longbottom," he drawled. I got the feeling that either part or all of his sentence was meant sarcastically, but I couldn't tell which part, or what the actual meaning behind the sentence was, so I just replied with a simple "Ah" and returned my concentration to my mashed potatoes again.

_It's going to be a long week_, I thought to myself. _Or maybe just the meal times._

* * *

I was wrong about the first half of that thought, though; the week seemed to whiz along to Friday. I mentally reviewed my class schedule: my 6th year N.E.W.T. class was first, then my 3rd years, followed by one of the two 5th year classes I had to prepare for O.W.L.s., and the day would be finished once I had completed my 2nd year class. _So let's get started!_ I thought to myself somewhat excitedly as I took a seat at the staff table. Snape gave me a sideways glare as always and, as always, I ignored it.

I ate my breakfast quickly and was about to stand up when I noticed Snape was looking at me out of the corner of his eye again. "Yes?" I asked, turning towards him and trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

I swore I saw something like suspicion in his eyes but whatever it was quickly became annoyance. "I was simply wondering what you were teaching the students," he said in a smooth voice which held a bit of a condescending tone.

"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate, I've been teaching every year something different," I replied in a cool tone while forcing myself to meet his eyes.

"But of course," he spoke in a tone which clearly indicated what he thought was painfully obvious. "I meant in general," he hardly elaborated.

"I have been teaching the first and second years basic defensive spells, the third years about dangerous magical creatures, the fourth and fifth years about more powerful curses and jinxes, and the sixth years and seventh years about dueling," I explained in a voice that I made intentionally sound slightly bored.

"I thought you said that you were teaching every year something different," he responded with a rather smug look on his face, like he had just caught a student who was disobeying the rules.

Merlin, was that man being annoying! "In some cases the years are so close together skill-wise it is not worth it to have different curriculums. This is due, of course, to the rather disconnected teachers, though, and thus is out of my control," I explained in a cool tone, once again, trying to keep my anger and annoyance under control.

"I do hope that you're not planning to stay on those general units all year. Students can only focus on any one topic for very long before their performance peaks and then declines," he condescended, apparently oblivious to the annoyed tone of my voice.

"Now if you'll excuse me," I stood up, pretending to have not heard his criticism of my teaching style, "I have a class that will be starting soon. Good day," I finished in a somewhat icy tone, still managing to show some respect.

I walked quickly through the long hallways that led to my classroom, trying desperately to keep my anger under control. By the time I had entered my classroom I was in a sufficiently pleasant mood and wondering whether the students would have thought to practice any spells before the start of today's class. Once the period had officially begun, I told them to put their text books away and follow me outside.

Upon our first step outside of Hogwarts I savored a deep breath of the fresh morning air: one couldn't get sweet country air like this in the city. "Alright class, today we were going to be working on a charm that not only shields the caster, but also reflects any spells back to the opponent," and we're outside because who knows what the reflected spells might do to the interior of a classroom I silently added. "The incantation is _Pondero _and to cast it you use a sharp jabbing motion followed by a sudden movement upwards" I explained while mimicking the movement with my wand. The class started mouthing it silently to themselves and moving their wands slightly. "We're going to split into dueling pairs, but first make sure you can cast the charm without the pressure of a spell coming your way." The students started awkwardly swishing their wands and I walked around correcting wand angles, pronunciations, and giving examples. This was my strong point, developed from years of tutoring: helping individual students. Finally I saw weak reflecting shields start to appear and then stronger ones. "When you feel confident you can pair up," I yelled out. Harry Potter and one of the Weasleys (I had forgotten his name again) immediately faced each other and started practicing.

"I think your angle should be a bit more like this," I said, approaching Harry from the side with the intention of tilting his wand a bit more upward, but Weasley, apparently unaware that I was about to pause the duel had already cast his spell. It hit Harry in the arm and painful looking boils started appearing, the patch quickly spreading and individual boils quickly becoming larger.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm so sorry, mate, I thought you were ready!" Weasley nervously exclaimed, a look of horror on his face at having injured his friend.

"It's okay, Ron, I know you didn't mean to hurt me," Harry replied with reassuring smile on his face.

"Here, let me see," I said, gesturing towards Harry arm, while mentally trying to cram Ron's name into my long-term memory. I casted the counter-hex but it only slowed the spread and enlargement of the boils. "Hm, that's not helping as much as I hoped. I think I'm going to have to take you to Madame Pomfrey. The hex was very well cast," I said half smiling at Ron, who looked away, embarrassed. "Pair-up with somebody else, I'll be back briefly."

Harry and I started the walk to the sick ward and an awkward silence reigned between us for a couple of minutes. It occurred to me that I didn't really need to go with him, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. I was simultaneously trying to think up of topics of conversation, but he actually spoke before I did.

"So did you go to Hogwarts, too?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," I replied, happy that the silence was finally broken. "I think it's the best magic school in Britain."

His face broke into a smile as he looked around the hall we were walking through. "It's pretty great. What house were you in?" he asked after a slight pause, as though that was the best topic he could come up with after his first question.

"Slytherin," I cheerfully replied, but I saw his eyebrows raise and a slight look of shock cross his face before he quickly regained his composure. "I know, historically Gryffindor and Slytherin aren't exactly the most friendly houses to each other."

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off. He seemed to be thinking and then he said "It's just you don't seem very much like a Slytherin," he added with a nervous smile.

I laughed. "Not all Slytherin's are bad, or identical. It seems a few Slytherins with strong personalities set the perception of the entire house."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry replied with a slight grin, which quickly vanished as Snape passed us in the halls. Snape's black eyes quickly flickered from Harry's wounded arm to me and back again, but he continued on his way without a word.

We arrived at the sick ward quickly afterwards and as soon as Madame Pomfrey saw Harry Potter a look of worry appeared on her face. "Oh no, don't tell me, what have you been doing now? It's only the first week of school!"

"Just a boil hex" he replied, holding out his arm. "Professor Colburn tried a counter hex but it didn't do much."

"Oh, no, it wouldn't. I have some cream that will help, though. Follow me," Madame Pomfrey said, turning towards the back of the room.

"I'm going to head back to the class now, Harry, if that's alright with you" I said, feeling that my job was done.

Class finished shortly after I got back, and happily it did so with no further injuries. After the other students had started walking back to the castle, two students walked up to me: Hermione and…and…damn it, I had forgotten his name again! Roland? Ron? Robert? Clearly I had not shoved it into my long-term memory hard enough.

"Is Harry going to be alright?" the red-haired boy asked nervously.

"Oh, I'm sure he is. Madame Pomfrey didn't seem concerned at all, just said that she had some cream that she would put on it."

The boy heaved a sigh of relief while Hermione stepped forward a bit more, holding the text book to her chest, and posed her question "Is there anything in the book you'd like us to read over the weekend?"

"No, I don't think so" I replied attempting to look pensive, even though I had no clue what the book even had. Then a thought occurred to me. "Actually, can I see that book for a minute?" She held it out and I took it. The cover was a dark green and on it was simply written: "Learning to Defend Yourself Against the Dark Arts: Advanced Level." "Actually, would it be okay if I borrowed this over the weekend? I'll give it back on Monday," I hastily added.

Hermione looked elated to have a professor ask her such a question. "O-of course!" she squeaked and she and Weasley quickly walked away, Hermione excitedly whispering rapid sentences to the teenage boy.

* * *

That evening I went to the professor's lounge to start reading the text books for the course I was teaching. Out of the seven years taught at Hogwarts, I only had the text books for two of them—the 6th year's, and the 3rd year's. I hadn't had the opportunity or the nerves to ask anybody in my other classes. When I opened the door, I noticed that Professor Snape was the only person in the lounge; his eyes flickered in my direction and then coldly returned to the book he was reading. Why did I seem to be running into that unpleasant man everywhere!

Without acknowledging his presence, I flopped down onto one side of an overstuffed blue couch that was on the opposite wall from Snape. The room was a large, perfect square, with a fire pit in the middle that crackled merrily and various couches and chairs of different colors lining the walls at different angles to each other. I had brought both text books with me, and I set the 6th year's one down before cracking the 3rd year's one open to the table of contents. _Hmm, this one seems to have a large section on dark magical creatures, that's good, considering that's what I started teaching them. I don't know if it's a year's worth of material, though. Anyway, they probably learn about dark magical creatures a bit if they're taking Care of Magical Creature. Or does that deal more with pet-like creatures? I ought to ask the professor what he covers. Who's the professor again? I think it's the groundkeeper, is Hagrid his name? I'm so bad with names, I still can't remember that poor Weasley boy's name is, not to mention the other students, and--_

"So did Potter die _en route_ to the sick ward or did his own over-confidence and incompetence only lead to temporary injury?"

"Uh," I replied oh-so-eloquently to Snape's sudden question. His voice had its normal acidic tone and I wasn't quite sure what to say. "Actually we were practicing a reflecting shield charm in class and when I was commenting on Harry's wand angle, um, what's-his-name, um, his red-haired friend, accidently hit him with the hex." Mentally I was cringing. I was sure that was more detail than Snape cared about. That combined with my poor timing in the class, and my inability to recall Weasley's name were all surefire targets for Snape's criticism.

"Ron" came his scornful voice.

"Huh?"

"That's Weasley's first name."

"Oh, uh, yeah, that sounds right," I stammered, rather surprised that Snape had not yet started directly critiquing me.

"Well, if the hex was cast by Weasley than it couldn't have been that damaging," he said, reverting to his normal criticism.

"I think Harry'll be fine," I replied coldly, ignoring his insult towards Ron.

I returned to my book, but I didn't concentrate on it very hard. The back of my mind couldn't help but wonder if that scornful question was Snape's way of showing that he cared about his students.

...

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Erm, obviously.

A/N: So I was looking through my computer recently, and I found a bunch of chapters I had written and never uploaded, so here they are! Reviews, constructive criticism, etc. are greatly appreciated!


	5. Professor, Gameskeeper and Keeper ofKeys

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Professor, Gameskeeper and Keeper of the Keys**

I was looking around at the 6th year Ravenclaws and Slytherins quietly sitting in front of me. I couldn't help but recognize and pause on several faces from my tutoring days; Draco Malfoy, for example, I had tutored for a couple of months while his normal prepatory tutor had been on sabbatical. "For next week I want you to write an essay on the different strategies of dueling: offensive, defensive, etc., and the advantages and disadvantages of each," I started. "I also want you to read pages 15 to 29 for the next class period. Class dismissed." I was rather happy to finally be able to assign reading, having skimmed the 6th year textbook last weekend.

That had been my last class of the day, and it was not yet evening. Now would be a good time to visit Professor Hagrid and inquire about the content of his course before dinner time. Upon my arrival at his hut, I knocked on the immense wooden door and heard a mild commotion behind the evidently thin walls—a barking dog, the scraping of a chair, and words spoken to the dog by a deep voice. Hagrid opened the door and I felt even smaller than I had in front of the immense wooden door—I knew that he was larger than average, having seen him in the Great Hall, but it had never struck me exactly how much larger than average. He seemed to be twice my height and multiple times my width. I had to crane my neck skyward just to look at his face and it made me feel like a young child attempting to look an adult in the eyes, a feeling which I did not appreciate; I hated being made to feel weak or small, even when that was not his intention. Hagrid, for his part, did not seem to sense this, and instead cheerfully greeted me. "So what brings you out here, Professor Colburn?"

"Oh, uh, actually I wanted to ask what you were teaching in your Care of Magical Creatures class, Professor Hagrid. I want to make sure I don't accidentally repeat anything that you've already covered, you see…" I trailed off.

"Sounds like a grand idea!" he heartily exclaimed. "Good to know that we have a Defense against the Dark Arts professor again who actually knows what they're doing. Come on in," he said, opening the door wider and beckoning me to a medium sized table with chairs around it in the center of the single room. His kitchen was immediately attached and the cupboards were obviously overflowing and disorganized—some held cups staked precariously upon other cups, others held flatware with food ingredients crammed into any available space, and yet others held just food, with bags of flour, sugar and tea leaves all stuffed into the same tiny corners. The kitchen counters themselves, though, were admirably clean, even if the wood was a bit thin and worse for the wear. "Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to brew a pot" he cheerfully added once I had taken a seat at the table.

"Oh, um, sure," I replied, mildly surprised that a completely stranger was being so friendly towards me.

He also took a seat at the table and with his black eyes twinkling started describing the creatures he taught and brought in for his classes. Every once in a while his face would break out into a wide smile that split his bushy black beard in two and he would gesture excitedly with his humongous hands.

"So how're you liking Hogwarts so far?" Hagrid said as they reached the end of their conversation and he stood up to silence the whistling tea kettle.

"Oh, it's going pretty well, I'd say. Still gathering my bearings a bit," I said in what I hoped came off as a light-hearted tone

Hagrid let out a chuckle. "Considering it's only the second week, I'd say you well deserve to still be gatherin' your bearings. I remember when I first started teaching here" he said, shaking his head as if remembering something mildly unpleasant. "It's a bit overwhelming at first, but things slide into place finally. So how you're classes? Any students misbehavin' that I should give a talking to?" he smiled.

I felt myself smile in return. Hagrid was being so friendly and warm that I couldn't help but feel relaxed and at home. Snape arose as an immediate counterpoint in my mind; I had already seen him in the lounge multiple times but excepting the first time, he had not spoken to me again, not even in greeting. "No, the students are all being great so far. Now some of the professors on the other hand," I laughed, wondering how far I could carry this topic of conversation with Hagrid. He didn't seem like the type who would gossip what I said to him.

"Oh no, are some of them giving you a hard time because you're new?" Hagrid asked, genuine concern appearing on his face.

"Oh, no, not really," I said feeling myself retreating from the subject out of a fear of accidentally causing a ruckus. "Professor Snape is a bit condescending sometimes, but it's not that big of a deal."

"Ah, well, Snape is a bit cold to everybody. Don't take it personally. I mean, especially since the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is his dream job." _Well that explains a lot_, I thought to myself. _Like why he seemed to hate me from the second I sat down on the very first day. _"He's really not as bad as he seems, though. Even if he, well, seems to be," Hagrid further explained.

There was another knock at the door and the previously-silent dog that I had failed to notice sitting under the table started barking again. I couldn't help but notice that it had many large, sharp teeth, and I nervously drew my feet a bit further away. Quickly after the knock, Harry Potter, Hermione, and their friend Ron all strode in, to my surprise. I wondered if they all had Hagrid's course, and had questions for him, or whether they were friends with the Gameskeeper. I saw all three of their gazes land on me for a moment, and I stood up awkwardly. "Oh, I can leave," I sputtered out. "I didn't know you were going to be having guests over," I sheepishly added.

"Don't be silly," Hagrid replied while grabbing three more cups for tea. "Besides," he added pulling something out of his overcrowded cupboard. "I just found some biscuits I baked, you can't leave now."

"Oh, alright," I added, awkwardly sitting down again and feeling rather like a fifth wheel. Harry and his friends also seemed mildly unsure of what to do, but with that they decided to all sit down at the table.

"So I just asked Colburn how her classes were, now you have to tell me how yours were," the immense man directed his request towards the three teens while setting down the biscuits and the cups on the table.

"They've been going really well," Hermione cheerfully started.

"Except for the all the reading that McGonagall just assigned in addition to the humongous essay," Ron complained, resting his chin in his hand.

"And Snape's being unbearable, as usual," Harry chimed in with an annoyed tone. His eyes quickly flickered in my direction.

"You can say whatever you like, I'm certainly not going to tell anyone," I replied, opening my eyes wide in an innocent look while taking a sip of my tea. Ron and Harry visibly relaxed and I mentally added, _besides, I'm all for hearing bad things about Snape._ My conscience twinged a bit as I remembered that Snape had essentially inquired after Harry's health, but I ignored that. I hated feeling that people regarded me as inferior, and I often reacted rashly, so hearing both Hagrid and Harry made me feel that perhaps Snape did not regard me, specifically, as inferior, but was instead such an egoist he treated everybody that way. That soothed a part of me, but another part remained unconvinced._ Stupid pure-blood git,_ I unwillingly thought. _Always think they're better than us._

I distractedly reached for a biscuit and turned my attention back to the conversation. "So Fred and George say that business is really booming," Ron said, the topic of conversation having evidently changed.

"Oh, what do they do?" I asked in an attempt to be friendly. At that moment I bit into the solid rock. Or at least that's what it felt like. I doubtfully regarded the biscuit and silently wondered how long it had been in the cupboard.

Ron, who had opened his mouth to reply, had to stifle a laugh upon seeing my facial expression, before he could continue. "They have a store. They sell gag items, sort of like Zonko's in Hogsmeade. They're thinking of coming to Hogwarts to sell some of their stuff, soon. That is their target audience, after all."

I frowned slightly as I imagined myself chasing after hundreds of students freshly armed with disruptive toys. "So I take it I can expect my job to become a bit more interesting soon?"

"You could say that," Harry smiled behind his tea cup.

A bit later I cheerfully left the hut, leaving the three friends behind to finish their conversation with Hagrid. It occurred to me that in complete contrast to that conversation I was soon going to be sitting next to Snape at the dinner table, and that dampened my cheerfulness a bit. _Well, I should try and be optimistic_, I sighed. _Hagrid said Snape isn't as bad as he seems…even if Snape is a jerk_

…

Disclaimer: Why, yes, I do own Harry Potter! For 8 hours every night. In my dreams.

A/N: First of all, thank you very much, Age-of-Orton, for reviewing! Updates should be coming fairly regularly since I'm on summer break, right now. Secondly, as a general announcement to whoever might be reading this, I'm aware that Snape isn't a pure-blood, it's just that's what Liseli thinks he is. Thirdly, as always, reviews are much appreciated!


	6. Colburn Trouble

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Colburn Trouble**

"Um, Professor Colburn?" I looked up from my hastily scribbled lesson plan for my next class and saw Hermione cautiously peeking her head into my office. "I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the project you assigned us," she continued, taking a few steps towards my desk.

"Of course, Hermione," I said, gesturing towards one of the chairs opposite my desk before standing up and taking the other one. She seemed mildly surprised that I would make such a gesture of equality, butI considered it merely a show of politeness. After a brief conversation about her essay and project, there was a pause in the conversation before I made the decision to leap to less school-related topics and ask her how things were going for her.

That conversation developed briefly before another pause and then Hermione asked me, "So what did you do before you got this position?"

"I was a tutor," I replied, glad that my previous career arguably qualified me for my current position.

"Oh, I'd never heard about tutors, before. It makes sense that they'd exist, I guess," she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"Are you Muggle-born?" Noting her mildly taken-aback expression, I mildly wondered if Harry had told her I was in Slytherin, and I hastily clarified myself. "I just mean that Muggle parents generally haven't heard of magic tutors before."

"Oh. Yes, I'm Muggle-born. Are you Muggle-born too?" her eyes brightened.

"No, I'm not," I struggled to maintain a neutral tone. "I'm pure-blood."

She nodded silently, and then stood up. "Well, I should probably go grab lunch before Ron and Harry wonder where I've disappeared to. It was nice talking with you, Professor Colburn."

Shortly afterwards I heard a mild commotion in the corridor. "Filthy Mudblood! Are you blind, too?" Draco's voice.

"Excuse me, but you're the one, you and your goons, who ran into me!" I heard Hermione's voice exclaim.

"Who gave you the right to talk to me like that! You watch your step, Granger, you're finally going to get your just deserts now that the Dark Lord has ri—"

"Is there a problem?" I curtly interrupted, entering the large stone hallway.

"Professor, I was just minding my own business when this Mudblood assaulted m—" Draco angrily started.

"I did not 'assault' you!" Hermione hotly exclaimed. "It's you who shouldered me into the wall."

"Does there seem to be a problem?" Snape's voice icily came as he appeared from seemingly nowhere.

"I can handle the situation fine myself, thank you" I cooly replied and I felt his black eyes boring into my blue ones. I held his gaze for a second before I turned my attention back to the two students in front of me. I was acutely aware of his presence as I started talking. "Look, I don't care who ran into who, or who thinks what about who. All I know is that this type of commotion is childish and uncalled for and I would expect more of 6th years who are practically at the end of their Hogwarts education." Draco and Hermione both looked away and I saw a pink tinge rise in Hermione's cheeks. "When you're in a public place, the least you can do is show each other a minimum level of respect."

"But professor she's a M—" sputtered Draco.

"I don't care. You're an excellent wizard and she's an excellent witch, and in a place like Hogwarts the least you can do is pass each other in the corridor without breaking out into a childish squall." I glanced away from their faces for a split second and saw that Snape's eyes were continuously on me. "I'm not going to deduct any house points this time, but you can be sure that the next time there will be a much harsher punishment. Now get on your way to lunch."

The small crowd that had gathered quickly dispersed and the two teenagers left in opposite directions. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief that my first resolution of a conflict had gone smoothly. Snape approached and I mentally cringed. If he was about to criticize me—

"Well handled," his voice drawled with such a combination of coldness, acridness and sarcasm that I had no clue what he actually meant. He held my gaze for a second and I felt oddly vulnerable before he sharply turned and started walking away.

* * *

By the next week, the third week of school, things were finally beginning to quiet down. I was starting to become friends with Sprout, Flitwick and Hagrid, and I had already run into the Potter trio several times when visiting Hagrid; knowing that they were friendly towards me made teaching my 6th year class considerably more relaxing. This week was also when, as true to their word, Fred and George Weasley arrived in Hogwarts for their visit. At first it wasn't actually them I saw, but I instead a sudden increase in the number of invisible stink bombs, smoke bombs which filled a corridor with white fog so thick you could barely walk through it, and fireworks that would latch onto the ceiling and rain down sparks for hours on end, always moving just out of Filch's reach.

One of these afternoons I walked to Hagrid's hut and just as I was about to knock on his door I heard voices inside. I could've sworn that I heard the word "Colburn" so I paused and instead listened thoughtfully, wondering what it would look like if they found me outside, standing silently at Hagrid's door.

"So who's Professor Colburn?" a voice I didn't recognize inquire.

"She's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She's pretty good, much better than Umbridge." Ron.

"Not that that's saying much," Harry bitterly replied.

"_Colburn_, in a Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" a similar voice I didn't recognize doubtfully asked, and I felt my pulse quicken.

"Yeah, why? Have you…heard something about her?" Harry again.

"I thought there were a couple Colburns—"

"In Azkaban." The two unknown voices seemed to be finishing each other's sentences.

"What for?" I heard Ron's shocked voice, and my pulse quickened until it felt like my veins were about to split open from the pressure.

I heard Hagrid leap to my defense. "Oh, now, don't judge her just because her family—"

"Death Eaters." The unknown voice stated, seemingly ignoring Hagrid's comment. My heart, formerly feeling as though it was about to explode from over-exertion, froze in my chest and my blood felt replaced with ice. A split second later though, it was beating again, and this time it was pumping lava through my veins instead of blood. How dare they, how dare they—

"Not that they're in Azkaban anymore."

"What with You-Know-Who's rise," the two voices continued finishing each other's thoughts.

"But you don't think that she's, that she's—" Ron's mildly shocked voice came.

"Don't be silly, just because there's a couple rotten eggs in her family doesn't mean they all turned out bad," Hagrid's reassuring voice stated. "I've talked with her a bunch of times. She's a very pleasant person."

"She was in Slytherin…" Harry's voice cautiously entered the conversation before trailing off, and I felt further annoyance start surging through my veins. Just because I was in Slytherin…

"Not all Slytherin's are bad," Hagrid gruffly replied.

"And—and, besides, she told Malfoy to stop calling me a Mu—to, to stop insulting me. If she was a Death Eater she would've immediately sided with Malfoy," Hermione's voice quietly hovered in the room, and I felt my blood start to cool off.

"Yeah, like Snape," Harry interjected.

"Yeah, and she doesn't seem to be very fond of Snape, either," Ron cheerfully added.

"That makes me like her more already!" one of the two unknown voices replied, laughing.

"Although Snape is on our side," the other unknown voice added.

"But Death Eaters don't know that," the other half of the pair replied. "So of course Death Eaters are going to be all-friendly-go-lucky with Snape."

Somebody burst into hysterical laughter. "I'm sorry," I heard Ron say between raucous laughs. "It's just the image of a happy-go-lucky Snape," he continued laughing, "It's almost as ridiculous as that boggart Snape wearing the vulture hat back in our third year." The rest of the cabin burst into laughter and the small wooden hut seemed to positively shake with the exuberant joy.

After a bit it quieted down and then I heard one of the unknown voices "Well, we ought to get going."

"More products to sell, you know," the other voice continued.

There was the sound of moving chairs and more good-byes. I took that as my cue to leave and, unsure where I could go, quickly ran behind the back of the hut. The door opened and I saw the expected trio along with two other red-haired boys--the two unknown voices were evidently Fred and George Weasley.

Once they had disappeared from my line of vision, I started walking back to the cabin, immersed in my thoughts. _So Snape's a Death Eater. That agrees with my snotty pure-blood git theory. Well, I'm not going to treat him differently, _I thought bitterly. _It's not like he knows that I know that he's a Death Eater._

…

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: A big thank you to ~Number1PeepFan~ for reviewing! I'm trying pretty hard to keep Snape in character, so I hope I'm succeeding!


	7. Weasley Trouble

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Weasley Trouble**

I saw the matching heads of red hair—the Weasley twins--a couple days later, near the beginning of the class period for one of my 6th year classes. They hastily walked into my class room and towards Ron. I glanced at them with a mildly incredulous look that they would have the nerve to walk into my classroom right before class was about to start, but they both just grinned at me and said "G'day Professor."

"We have to say good-bye to Ron—"

"Little Ronikins—"

"'Cause we're about to leave, you see."

"Have to tell him to keep out of trouble." They grinned wider and one of them ruffled Ron's hair, to Ron's annoyance.

"That's all," one of them said, but the other was handing Ron something and saying something in a lower tone of voice. Then they both stood up straight and said "Bye!" in unison before striding out the door. I smiled in spite of myself and started teaching my lesson for the day.

Several hours later I found out what one of the twins had been handing Ron. I was walking through the halls at almost two in the morning, exhausted after coming back from a late meeting, when I saw a light on in an empty classroom and heard the quiet shuffling of what sounded like somebody trying to avoid being caught. I slinked to the door and put my ear against the wall to listen.

"George said they didn't have time to test it while they were here. It's supposed to stick to the wall and shrink the classroom you're in or something."

I opened the door just as Ron had finished throwing what looked like a white spider the size of a baseball against the wall. Harry and Ron turned around at the sound of the opening door, both obviously surprised at my appearance in the classroom.

"Well, well, what do we have here," I said with a flat voice, slightly frowning. My eyes flickered up to the formerly-baseball-sized spider. It was flattening as if an invisible hand was pushing down on its putty-textured body, and it was quickly covering more and more of the wall. "Uh," I said, losing my strict composure for a second. "Do you know how to stop its spread?" I was eyeing the shelves of books it was spreading towards.

Ron and Harry both turned around and their faces looked first surprised, then worried. They simultaneously ran towards the wall without a word and started casting spells at its expanding borders to slow its expansion. I joined them but it didn't seem to be doing much, and with horror I noticed that it had started to completely cover the shelves of books. I finally cast a disappearing charm to keep it from devouring more books but those which had already been covered disappeared with it. I didn't know which teacher used this classroom, if any, and I was horrified at the idea of having to attempt to replace books of which probably nobody knew the title. In retrospect, if nobody was using the books I supposed it didn't matter very much, but at the time I was livid at the two boys who, due to their foolishness, were responsible for the loss of potential valuable or useful books. More importantly, I was irrationally afraid that it might somehow be blamed on me since I was the one who had found them.

I turned towards them and I think they recognized the look of disbelieving anger on my face because the stuttering attempts at excuses, that they had started once I had disappeared Fred and George's gag gift, trailed off.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," I said, daring them to make a complaint. They stayed silent and I continued, "You'll both have some form of detention. Separately. Go back to the Gryffindor Tower. No, I'll walk with you," I added, thinking that they might not go directly back otherwise. "One of you will probably have to re-paint that wall," I added on the walk back, remembering the poor condition of the paint after I had disappeared the gag toy. We walked in silence and not a soul moved in the stone hallways.

* * *

I ended up giving Ron the job of re-painting the wall (with no magic, of course), and since my classroom had been out of use before I joined the staff, I gave Harry the job of cleaning it (also with no magic.) I sat in the classroom while he did so, skimming the text books of the 2nd and 4th years. "So are all of Ron's siblings this troublesome?" I asked, my desire to take a break from the reading defeating my feeling that I shouldn't be friendly to students who were serving detention.

"No, not really." He paused. "It depends on your definition of troublesome."

I knew the Weasleys were a large family but I didn't know exactly how large so I vaguely asked, "Does he have a lot of older siblings?"

Harry nodded. "Five. Some are closer to the family than others, though." I nodded, and Harry looked thoughtful for a second. "So do you have any siblings?" he asked in a forced casual tone, and I remembered the conversation I had overheard in Hagrid's cabin.

"I have four older brothers," I spoke, trying to keep my tone light and conversational.

"Oh, were you the only girl?"

"Yes," I responded shortly. "I wasn't very close to my brothers," I decided to defend myself by further elaborating on my previous comment. "They would pick on me a lot." _After all,_ I thought, _when Mother and Father explicitly say that girls are weak and useless, that sort of opens the way for my brothers to pick on me._

"Oh that's too bad," Harry looked sympathetic. "My cousin that I used to live with used to pick on me a lot," he added after a pause.

"I'm sorry," I replied and it suddenly struck me with full force that, no, of course, he didn't live with his parents—they had both been killed by Death Eaters, by the Dark Lord. They weren't coming back, and so of course he had to live with other relatives, including his cousin.

A silence fell over the classroom like a heavy blanket. Harry paused before turning back to his cleaning and I looked at my book again, without reading any of the words on the page. I wondered what was going through Harry's mind at that moment, but then the door suddenly opened and Snape stood in the doorway. His glance flickered towards Harry and instantly become filled with loathing.

"May I help you?" I said coolly, and his eyes immediately flashed in my direction.

"The Headmaster would like to see you," he replied with an equally cold tone. I immediately felt like a school girl again, as if I was about to be punished for something I had done wrong. Why did Dumbledore want to see _me_?

"I'll be back briefly, Harry," I said, standing up and attempting to hide my nerves.

"If you have anything precious or private to you, I wouldn't leave it within range of Potter," Snape's upper lip curled and his gaze landed on Harry, who seemed to be carefully and intentionally avoiding looking in his direction.

"Uh, alright," I stuttered, unsure of what to say. I walked out of the door without moving anything and Snape closed the door, leaving Harry inside. He waited a split second for me and I could tell that I was supposed to follow him, just before he started walking very slightly ahead of me, his robes billowing behind him with his quick steps. I felt rather childish trailing behind him so, annoyed, I ran a couple of steps to catch up. His eyes quickly flicked in my direction and I angrily spit out: "I don't need to be _led_ to Dumbledore's office." I heard my voice and thought that it sounded like that of an impertinent child, which only made my aggravation increase.

"Suit yourself," he calmly said, the timbre of his voice containing its normal coolness. He turned sharply at the corner and started walking done a separate hallway. I paused and looked scornfully at his retreating figure before turning back towards the corridor I was currently standing in. It was at that moment that it hit me: I actually wasn't entirely sure where the Headmaster's office was. I could still see Snape out of the corner of my eye, but I knew even without turning my head that I would not go groveling to him asking where Dumbledore's office was. I was a Slytherin: I was cunning, I would find the office on my own. I visualized the office in my mind's eye, and remembered that it was in a tower, one on the south side of the castle. I started hurriedly walking, practically running, towards the south of the castle while picturing the different towers I had been in at Hogwarts.

When I reached the top of the staircase inside the first tower there was a large stone statue which looked familiar. After a second it sprung inside and I was soon inside the Headmaster's office, astounded at my good luck that it had been in the first tower that I had checked.

"Hello, Liseli," Dumbledore greeted me warmly.

"Oh, uh, hello, Professor," my words nervously tumbled out.

"No need to be nervous," Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling. "Please, take a seat. I just wanted to see how things were going."

"Oh, that's nice of you," I said taking one of the seats opposite him.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "I hear you've been quite the conflict-resolver recently."

"Well, I don't know about that," I gave a small, embarrassed smile.

"Now, now, no need to be modest," he said. I looked away and felt a slight blush rise in my cheeks. "I'm glad to see that you're treating all of the students equally, no matter what their background." I looked back up at him again, frowning slightly. What did he mean by that? What else would I be doing? He seemed to sense that I was offended for he quickly added, "I just mean since you've worked with some of the students and their families previously, when you were a tutor. Many people would unintentionally allow those small biases to spill over into their work, and I'm happy to see that you aren't one of those people. That's all."

I noticed his eyes were glued to mine, now, and the piercing effect produced by them unsettlingly reminded me of Snape's eyes, despite the many other differences between them. "I would never treat the students anything but equally," I said in a light-hearted tone, trying to shake the feeling that Dumbledore could see his way into my mind.

"That's good to hear," he said and his eyes suddenly regained their warm, sparkling atmosphere to such an extent that I doubted myself for even thinking that his eyes could have any similarities to Snape's. He then shifted to other topics of conversation, asking more about my classes and how I liked the students, the other professors, and living at Hogwarts again. On my long walk from his tower to the Slytherins' basements, I replayed the conversation in my head, amazed at his friendliness and warmth. It seemed as if he genuinely cared about everybody at Hogwarts. My first thought was to that it was a ploy to gain others' confidences, but such an idea couldn't stay in my head very long: it just seemed too genuine, not as if he was trying to profit from it. It amazed me that a wizard that great could care about so many people without becoming weak or finding himself ripped to shreds by being pulled in many directions at once.

…

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Thank you very much to avalon for reviewing! I really hope you keep reading, and thanks for the heads up about the spelling mistakes; I should be more careful about that. Anybody else reading this, I hope you review, too!


	8. The Three Broomsticks

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Three Broomsticks**

It was mid afternoon and I was standing at the entrance to Hogwarts along with Hagrid, Sprout and Flitwick. We had decided to make an excursion to the Three Broomsticks, and we were waiting for McGonagall to join us, as she had said she was going to. It was a rather nice day: there were a few lazy wisps of white clouds on the horizon, and otherwise there was nothing but the sun's strong beams shining down. When it hit the leaves of the trees it caused portions of them to appear a shade of lighter, giving them a speckled, glowing appearance that changed whenever a light breeze blew by. I turned back to the castle entrance to see McGonagall briskly striding towards us, and she gave us one of her slight, tight-lipped smiles.

"Ready to go?" Hagrid said heartily.

"Let's wait just a bit longer," McGonagall said before adding, "I convinced Severus to join us. He should be along shortly."

I raised my eyebrows but managed to restrain myself from making any comments. Like asking, for example, why anybody would want Snape to come in the first place. It seemed to me that if effort was going to be put into convincing someone to do something, it would've been better served convincing Snape and his cold, sarcastic demeanor to stay as far away from us as possible. The others in the group didn't say anything either, but instead made cheerful acquiescing sounds. Snape didn't keep us waiting long, at least. Only a few minutes after McGonagall had arrived, he swept up to us and curtly nodded in response to the generic greetings of the other professors. My first thought was that, unsurprisingly, Snape had the standard unpleasant look on his face. My second thought was that I did not believe I had ever seen him outdoors and the sickly pallor of his skin in the sunlight seemed to second my thought.

I don't know if you've ever noticed this, but when people are in a large group they tend to split up into pairs for the walk there. To my great dismay, McGonagall started talking to Sprout, and Hagrid to Flitwick, so that at the back of the group I was stuck walking silently next to Snape. I glared slightly at the back of McGonagall's head—if she was going to invite Snape the least she could do is be the one to chat with him.

"It's a nice day," I started, falsely cheery.

"I suppose it is," he drawled in a neutral tone.

I searched my mind for a topic of conversation that he might respond favorably to, before settling on the Slytherin Quidditch team. "So what do you think about the Quidditch teams this year?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, and his eyes flicked in my direction_. Hey, he's actually acknowledging my presence instead of pretending he's walking next to a collection of air molecules! Who knew he had manners,_ I sarcastically thought.

"You knew those people who fly around on brooms and throw balls at each other?" I said, the sarcastic tone from my thoughts leaking into my spoken words. "Which team do you think is going to do better than the other ones."

He was silent and at first I thought he had decided to simply ignore my existence altogether, before I realized he was simply thinking. "Well of course I hope the Slytherin team wins," he started. "Gryffindor has won in other years, though, even when Slytherin had a stronger team than it does now."

His voice and manner had yet to become cold or sarcastic, so as far as I was concerned I had hit upon a conversational gold mine. "Does the Ravenclaw team still always take the defensive approach? I remember when I was here that was their strategy, and I heard that they had been doing that for decades."

"For the most part they still do that." He paused. "I'd forgotten you went to Hogwarts."

I mentally rolled my eyes; another part of me found it funny that he had forgotten, even though we were both Slytherins. "Yes, I did," I said, an amused smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "We were there at the same time, although I doubt you remember that, either."

He was silent again for a brief second. "No, I'm afraid I met too many during my years there to remember them all." How diplomatic. A true Slytherin. "I don't remember any Colburns. Or at least--" his brow creased faintly as he gave me a slightly longer, more intense look "I don't remember you. There was a Colburn that was Prefect. And later Headboy."

I felt my lips reflexively purse. _Great. So that's what he remembers. Now I'll just be "Colburn's sister." _In a slightly annoyed tone I replied,"Yes, Deneb was Prefect and Headboy."

I saw Snape looking intently at my face again, and after our eyes first met I looked away, assuming he was trying to see the family resemblance. Deneb and I looked faintly similar: our hair was the same color of chestnut brown, and our eyes were identical shades of light blue. "Older or younger brother?" he inquired, and I swore he sounded amused.

"Older." I curtly replied. He looked me in the eyes and I felt rather exposed again, but just for a second, because at that point we had all arrived at The Three Broomsticks. I made a point of not sitting next to Snape—I already had to suffer sitting next to him at meal times at Hogwarts.

The waitress came to our table and started pleasantly chatting with Hagrid and Flitwick while simultaneously taking our orders. She left and by the time she returned with our drinks, our group had moved on from small talk to a much more depressing and unwelcome conversation: the rise of the Dark Lord.

"It's horrendous," Sprout shook her head. "And even though Hogwarts is safe—or at least feels safe—there's always the feeling elsewhere that you never know who might be a Death Eater. Or worse: what if someone you know has been put under the Imperius curse?"

"It feels like the First War again—like we never won it, that we're just going back to its beginning. And that war was so horrible," Hagrid's voice cracked on the last word. "I mean—just the first thing I think of is always all those deaths, ending with Lily and James Potter."

Did this really have to be what our conversation centered on? When somebody died I generally put it out of my mind relatively quickly. I didn't want to think about death, or it's affects on others and how horrible it was. But they continued talking:

"Lily and James Potter," Flitwick sighed. "They were such a sweet couple. James wasn't exactly the most well-behaved student," he laughed reminiscently "But Lily was so kind, so caring. I still can't believe they were murdered—just—murdered!"

Before I knew what I was doing I abruptly stood up and pushed my unfinished Butterbeer away from me. "I'm feeling a bit light-headed from the stuffiness in here," I brusquely made up an excuse. "I'm going to go out and get some fresh air. Don't worry about waiting for me," and I started to stride out without waiting for another word.

From behind me, though, I heard someone stand up and Snape's voice say "I'm going to accompany her." I started walking faster, dreading that he might catch up with me. Snape was unpleasant, and I thought the situation was already unpleasant enough. Alas, he did, and after giving him a sidelong glance I set about to ignoring him. I didn't know where I was going, but my quick footsteps seemed to be taking me in the direction of the Shrieking Shack, and Snape was still next to me.

"I'm not actually feeling light-headed," I finally snapped at him. "I'm not some ill, frail woman who needs to be accompanied everywhere."

"Why'd you actually leave then?" he stated in a flat voice, one which was lacking his normal haughty self-confidence.

"Because I don't want to think about Lily and James Potter being murdered," I stated, crossing my arms as a wind blew down our path. "What about you."

He seemed immersed in his own thoughts and he said the word "Same," only in a rather odd manner. As soon as he started the "s" sound it seemed as though he wanted to swallow the word and it was only dragged out of him by the force of the word's own momentum. Regaining his normal composure he quickly added "It was too stuffy in there, anyway--no ventilation. Absolutely unbearable, I wanted to get outside."

I nodded. I was still walking, leading the way to nowhere. We had just passed the Shrieking Shack and left the village, walking up a large hill with a winding trail. The trail continued for quite some time and we walked in silence, both seemingly immersed in our own thoughts. Finally, after who knows how long, I got tired of walking and simply announced "I'm going to sit," not particularly caring what Snape thought or if he was also going to stop. I plopped down on a stretch of wild grass and to my surprise, he followed suit. (Although I suppose I wouldn't have used the word "plopped" to describe him sitting down.)

The blue on the horizon was becoming paler and paler, starting to take on an orange tint, while the sky directly above our heads was a royal blue. The horizon went from a pale orange tint to a magnificent blazing combination of reds, oranges and yellows. It looked as if the air and the earth itself were catching fire. Slowly it faded, and became a serene dark blue, an ocean putting out the fire. I glanced at Snape out of the corner of my eye but I couldn't see his face--his head was at such an angle that I could only see his greasy black hair and his large nose in profile.

"Do you want to go back to Hogwarts?" I ventured; I had already finished my train of thought.

His head jerked at the sound of my voice as though coming out of a reverie and he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "You can go back if you want to."

I opened my mouth to say something and then realized I had nothing to say. Instead I looked up at the sky. Stars were starting to appear, although not very many; they were drowned out by the light of the almost-full moon. I'm not quite sure why I decided to stay sitting next to a man I strongly disliked—I suppose it seemed the polite thing, the right thing to do. Besides, he was really only annoying when he opened his mouth, and for now he was silent.

* * *

My first class of the next day was, to my great unhappiness, 6th year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Normally I liked teaching this class, but what I didn't like was having my mind drift back to the professors' conversation yesterday every time my eyes landed on Harry. I was quite happy when the class was over and I turned my back on the class to shuffle papers, listening to the sound of the students leaving and hoping I wouldn't have to see Harry for another couple of days. I could tell there was somebody standing behind me, though, so I turned around to face them. The face I saw caused my jaw to drop in shock. The man had chestnut colored hair and light blue eyes, eyes which bulged unnaturally out of sunken eye sockets. His face was gaunt, and his high cheekbones protruded abnormally, matching with the boniness of his frame; his robes hung loosely on him, almost as if he were a skeleton. I stood, shocked, looking at this ghost, this Inferi, without saying anything until my mouth blurted out the first sentence I could think of:

"You look like hell, Tarazet."

"Fifteen years in Azkaban would've done that to you, too, Liseli."

…

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; just borrowing Rowling's settings and characters.

A/N: So having read the Deathly Hallows, I bet all of you can figure out what Snape was thinking about. Anyways, I wanted to give a big thank you to Mywaychan and Jenz127 for reviewing; updates should be coming approximately every half week. Reviews are always greatly appreciated!


	9. Tarazet

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Tarazet**

The last time I had seen my brother Tarazet, fifteen years ago, flashed before my eyes and I quickly wished that he was not currently standing in front of me. Besides, what was he doing on Hogwarts' grounds? I was working, did he have no respect for that? How dare he potentially jeopardize my job! I did not want to be seen with a convicted criminal! I felt my blood beginning to boil and after struggling for a split second to form words with my mouth I spat out "What are _you_ doing here?" He opened his mouth to reply but then I angrily cut him off upon seeing the Potter trio approaching my desk. "No, wait, I have students who want to talk to me."

Tarazet's eyes had a hungry gleam as he looked around the room full of bustling students, but when his eyes landed on Harry and his scar, they became absolutely ravenous. I saw a muscle in his arm twitch and I was sure he was fingering his wand. Harry glanced mildly worriedly at Tarazet before looking at me again. "Tarazet!" I snapped and he jumped, startled, before quickly taking his hands out of his pockets and clasping them together in front of him. "Move a bit away from my desk, you're taking up all the space." If I had been in a better mood I would have laughed at my own comment, imagining this skeleton, this wisp of a man taking up too much space. As it was, I watched as he grudgingly stepped a bit further away and gave Harry and his friends a bit more space.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" I said, forcing myself to act cheerful while cautiously watching Tarazet out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, um, actually," Harry gave a quick laugh, "You see, Ron and I were having an argument and we wanted you to settle it."

Ron gave a sheepish grin and continued, "We were, uh, wondering who would win in a match of a werewolf against a vampire."

I noticed Hermione roll her eyes and say something that sounded like "Boys…"

I smiled in spite of myself and said "I would guess the vampire—they can strategize more than werewolves." Ron grinned widely while Harry looked mildly dejected and with a quick "thank you" the trio left, leaving me alone in the classroom with Tarazet who now leapt forward.

"You have Harry Potter, HARRY POTTER, in your classes, under your thumb, so nearby," he spluttered, his gaunt face twisted with an insane rage, "And--and--and you—you HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!"

"Lower your voice!" I hissed. The last thing I needed was somebody to walk in and think I was a Death Eater plotting with my brother.

"The reason for the Dark Lord's downfall, the reason for the slew of arrests after the end of the First War, and he's right under your thumb!" he hissed back.

"I'm not going to do anything to Harry! Drop it!" I said angrily.

"What, are you too afraid?" he snarled. "Too weak? You were never strong enough to do anything useful."

I felt pure rage coursing through my veins and my brain reflexively started going through the hexes I'd like to use on him. "I'm not taking the bait," I spit back. "We're moving on. What was your reason for coming here in the first place?"

"I came here because I couldn't believe that my sister was working for Albus Dumbledore," he sneered, in a tone of voice that was only slightly less anger-filled than that he had used when talking about Harry. "_Dumbledore? _That blind old bat, who can't tell the difference between muggles and wizards, mudbloods and purebloods? Not to mention one of the men responsible for my imprisonment. How could you?" His voice had a hint of hurt, of being betrayed when he said the last question.

"Is that all?" I asked impatiently. "Dumbledore is a perfectly nice, competent Headmaster," I angrily added, unable to keep myself from arguing back.

"What, are you becoming soft? Weak?" he said in a deadly whisper. "'_Dumbledore's nice,'_" he imitated my higher-pitched voice. I could feel my anger towards my brother quickly growing. "You've changed, wait, no, I take that back. You were always weak," he continued in his deadly whisper, only his voice cracked on the last sentence and that hint of hurt in his voice reappeared.

"Get out," I whispered, my voice shaking with rage.

"Yeah, you heard me," he said a bit louder, a bit more sure of himself, yet still with that betrayed tone. "You were never strong, you were always weak. Weak and useless!"

Something in me snapped. "GET OUT!" I screamed, suddenly no longer caring whether someone nearby overheard what we said. Tarazet jumped but didn't move beyond that. "GET OUT!" I screamed again, this time whipping out my wand and pointing it at him. Startled—and a bit afraid?—he whipped out his wand and nervously and frantically fired a simple spell at me. I easily deflected it and almost laughed. He essentially hadn't used his wand in fifteen years. If I wanted to I would be able to easily defeat him in a duel, not just defeat, crush, obliterate. I turned away from that appealing idea, though: I couldn't be found beating up my brother.

Lost in my thoughts and my rage I hadn't heard the door open, but I did hear the cold voice which said "Is there a problem here?" I looked up to see Snape standing by the doorway. Snape, in his turn, was looking at a very angry witch and a very angry wizard with their wands pointed at each other. The wall's paint was chipped behind me where I had deflected the spell and Tarazet's wand was spewing a few sparks, as he nervously regarded Snape. _Sparks, really?_ I couldn't help but think with disgust. _Did he really lose that much of his magical control while in Azkaban?_

The room was silent, pregnant with the different possibilities of what might happen. Finally, through gritted teeth I quietly said: "Leave."

I pointed to the door with my wand and Tarazet pocketed his wand before walking towards the door. He turned around at the door and said, angrily articulating every syllable, "You're such a disappointment, Liseli."

"OUT!" I screamed, ignoring that Snape was standing in the room. The door slammed as Tarazet left, leaving Snape looking at me. My hands had balled into fists but I put them flat on my desk and pretended to be looking very intently at a piece of paper. I was shaking, and I desperately tried to gather my nerves and calm myself down. "I didn't need your help," I angrily said through gritted teeth, standing up straight to look him in the face. I was surprised when I glanced back at my desk, though, for there were two small blood spots on the papers on which I had lain my hands flat. I quickly looked at the palms of my hand and noticed, shocked, that they both had a small wound from which they were bleeding.

Snape strode closer to me and, frowning slightly, said in a disinterested tone, "Did he do that to you?"

"No. My nails must have broken the skin when I balled my hands into fists," I replied, surprised that I had not noticed this at the time.

"Give me your hand," he said in a slightly bored tone.

"Why?" I asked, suspicious.

"I'm not going to curse your hand off," he rolled his eyes. I tentatively held out my left hand. (That way if he did curse it off, it wasn't my wand hand.)

He took my hand in his and laid it palm up. I gave him a bewildered look and almost pulled my hand away before waiting to see what he was going to do. He proceeded to take his wand out and point it directly at the few drops of blood on my palm, before muttering something. The wound fully healed and I let out a quiet "Oh," upon realizing that had been his intention the entire time. I held out my other hand which he took to heal. I couldn't help but be mildly surprised that his hands were warm—I think I had expected them to be cold and scaly, like a snake or something. "Thanks," I said as roughly and not-caringly as I could.

"It's nothing," he replied coldly; he could do the rough, not-caring tone much better than I could.

A heavy silence invaded the room and sat between us. I desperately hoped that he hadn't overheard the earlier part of the conversation and thought that I shared my brother's views, for he seemed to be gazing at me rather intently. I quickly walked to my desk and brusquely gathered some papers together. "Well, I think I'm going to get heading back towards my quarters," I said in a falsely cheery voice, my arms filled with a book and some papers. Snape nodded in acknowledgment and left the room going one direction while I went the other.

…

Disclaimer: Still don't own J.K. Rowling's world.

A/N: So I have to say, that in this story things are never as simple as they seem. On a different note, a very big thank you to ChowLeslieChow, PollyWantCookie, Mywaychan and avalon for reviewing! Reviews always make my day :)


	10. Honey Dukes

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Honey Dukes**

At the end of my classes for the day I decided to go see Hagrid to take my mind off my nervousness that Tarazet might reappear again. By the time I arrived at his house, Harry, Ron and Hermione were already seated around the table sipping cups of tea and politely ignoring the plate of biscuits in front of them. I couldn't help but think that they looked as though they were the exact same biscuits he had been offering us since the beginning of the year.

"Hello, Liseli," Hagrid smiled when I came in. "Let me grab you another cup. Oh! I just remembered something I was going to tell you. Somebody was looking for you at Hogsmeade the other day." I froze. "He didn't say his name but he was tall with chestnut hair, and very thin."

"He found me," I said icily.

Hagrid heard the change in tone and quickly inquired, "Did something happen?"

"I didn't particularly want to see him," I explained.

"Was that—was that the man that was in the classroom at the end of our class?" Hermione cautiously asked.

I nodded and Ron blurt out, "Who is he?"

I hesitated for a second and decided it would be best to answer honestly. "He's my youngest brother. I hadn't seen him in a very long time, and I would have been more than happy to continue that streak."

"He looked a bit under the weather," Hermione cautiously ventured, and I thought I saw where she was going with this; Tarazet's eyes had the haunted look that only Azkaban prisoners could obtain.

I decided to answer her real question, instead of beating around the bush. Besides, then I could explain that he wasn't in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, even though he was one. "People don't come out of Azkaban exactly looking untouched," I replied. "He just finished serving his fifteen year sentence."

"Only fifteen years? What'd he do?" Clearly not very good at diplomatic skills, our Ron. It was fairly obvious that he remembered Fred and George's statement that I had several brothers who were Death Eaters.

I pursed my lips. "He counterfeited Galleons."

Hermione's eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead, they went so high. "He counterfeited Galleons? But there are all sorts of charms on them to make them impossible to replicate and to make them identifiable."

"He could be clever when he wanted to," I said shortly.

But Hermione pressed the issue "And then there's the whole branch of Goblin magic concerning them, too. I can't imagine how he possibly could have counterfeited Galleons without someone immediately noticing. I mean, he must have used Dark Magic or something."

The conversation was not going the direction I wanted it to, and at this point I was pressing my lips together so tightly I was sure my facial expression looked like I was sucking on a lemon. "I don't know his technique. We were never very close," I oversimplified, "And I'm certainly not going to aide him in criminal activities."

Hermione seemed to realize she had gone a bit too far, for she quickly fell silent. The room was quiet for a moment until Harry spoke, "Fifteen years seems like an awfully long time for counterfeiting."

"Two hundred million Galleons is an awful lot to counterfeit," I said lightly, taking a sip of my tea. _And the judge wasn't exactly ecstatic that he gave all of them to the Death Eater cause, _I silently added.

Ron's jaw had dropped. "T-two _hundred million_?" His eyes glazed over and I was sure he was thinking about all he could do with even a hundredth of that amount. Part of me suddenly got the urge to warn Harry that he should avoid Tarazet, in case they crossed paths again, but I quickly decided against it: it was bad enough to be seen with a convicted criminal, I didn't need them to know that he was a Death Eater, too. From across the table, Ron was still looking dreamily into space and I heard the faintest sigh issue from his mouth, "..and a Firebolt, and new robes, and my own textbooks…"

* * *

I ate quickly at dinner, hoping to finish before Snape could so much as arrive. Professor Sprout was already there, however, and one of the first things she said to me was "Oh, by the way, somebody was looking for you yesterday at Hogsmeade. Tall, thin fellow."

"Hagrid already told me. Thanks, though," I replied, trying my hardest to appear nothing but cheerful. I wolfed down my food without further conversation, leapt up and started walking back to my quarters.

"Liseli," I heard Dumbledore's soft voice behind me in the stone hallway. He had either followed me out of the Grand Hall, or had coincidentally been walking in the same hall. "I heard you had a rather—ah—unpleasant visitor? Is everything all right?"

I felt my face turn crimson. Now even Dumbledore was talking to me about Tarazet! Must everyone in the universe associate him with me? I quickly stuttered, "Oh, I'm so sorry, professor. I hope we didn't cause too much of a ruckus. I had no idea he was coming, I didn't want to see him, I would've have never allowed him to come onto Hogwart's grounds if I had known—I mean what with security being such an issue nowadays—and really, I swear it won't happen again, and—"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop me, his blue eyes twinkling. "You misinterpret me. I meant are you okay?"

"Oh." I paused, mildly embarrassed I hadn't understood his question in the first place. "I'm fine, just annoyed at him."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's good to hear. If there's every anything you need to talk about, Liseli, I always have an open ear." And with that he bade farewell and strode back towards the Great Hall, leaving me to stand there and wonder what he actually meant.

* * *

After that I started avoiding the Great Hall at meal times. I didn't want to have to talk about Tarazet with anybody else. I'd send to the kitchen to have food brought to my quarters, or I'd walk down myself and chat with the House elves. One such day, a rather cloudy Saturday, I was having brunch in my room when I heard a knock at the door. Nobody had ever visited my room before, and when I swung aside the painting, a rather unpleasant site greeted my eyes.

I resisted the temptation to say "What are you doing here?" and instead curtly said "Good morning, Snape. What can I do for you?"

He walked into my room (without being invited in, I might point out) and stated, "Some of the professors were worried."

I pursed my lips. "About what?"

"You haven't been at any of the meals in almost a week," he replied.

"I've been eating in my room," I said tersely, and indicated my unfinished brunch, which he had interrupted. "Did the other professors send you?" I asked, somehow doubting that he would visit me of his own will.

"My quarters are the closest to yours," he drawled.

"Well, your timing's poor, I was just about to leave for Hogsmeade," I lied.

"With your brunch half eaten?" he raised an eyebrow.

I glanced at the plate and then said confidently "Yes. Now if you'll excuse me," and I left my room through the portrait hole.

He left with me, though, and started walking next to me. "You need to work on making up believable excuses," Snape said disinterestedly, and I felt a twinge of annoyance at him condescending to me.

I was sure that he had told the professors he was going to talk to me, and that he wasn't going to leave until he accomplished whatever it was he had said he would. _Fine,_ I thought. _That doesn't mean I'm going to make it any easier for him. He can follow me all day until he gives up._

"I'm going to Honey Dukes," I announced.

He raised his eyebrows again. "Somehow I imagined your tastes would have—ah—matured by now, Colburn."

"It's not for me," I sneered at him and his condescending voice. "If you must know, I'm planning on giving my students candy, and then making a point about how they should know how to check unknown food for curses."

"Cursing your students? I'm impressed," and for once his words agreed with his tone of voice; he did sound impressed.

"I'm not going to _actually_ curse them," I rolled my eyes.

"Why not?" At first I thought that he must be being sarcastic, but then I realized that he was honestly asking.

"Because—because, there's an awful lot of ways that could go wrong," I replied, surprised that I had to answer such a question.

"As long as it's a simple curse, and you have the counter-curse or antidote on hand, anything that goes wrong is easily remedied. Besides, the students will remember the lesson much better, get more first hand experience," he drawled.

Hm. He did make a point. "Still," I hesitated.

"Try the 'Aegrus Venter' curse," he replied immediately. "It has both a counter-curse and an antidote, which I can brew," his voice had less of the disinterested edge than it normally had.

We entered Honey Dukes and I had to keep myself from laughing. The sight of Snape, brooding, imposing Snape, in long black robes, standing in a colorful candy shop while young children ran around was beyond amusing. "I was thinking Chocolate Frogs, or something," I stated. "Do you think the charm on them would interfere with the curse?"

"I doubt it," he said distractedly. He was looking at a package of Cockroach clusters.

"Oh, students would never eat those," I explained, now in a rather light-hearted mood. "Seginus and Matar, my oldest brothers, tricked me into eating one when I was little. They're disgusting." Snape started looking at the Acid Pops next to them, and it struck me that Snape may have never walked into Honey Dukes before; he had the look of someone thrown into an entirely new situation.

I finally settled on a very large box of Chocolate Frogs, and left the store carrying it in a bag with a shrinking charm on it. We were walking back to Hogwarts when I heard a voice behind me happily yell "Liseli!" I froze where I stood and turned around. "Liseli!" the man cheerfully exclaimed again. He had chestnut brown hair, light blue eyes, and was slightly overweight. A 3 or 4 year old girl with blonde hair and blue eyes was holding his hand and walking with him as he approached me. "Why I haven't seen you in forever, Liseli. What a pleasant coincidence running into you here!" _Coincidence,_ I thought acridly. _Sure. _He looked at Snape, who had the beginning of a sneer on his face. "And let's see, Severus Snape, am I wrong?" the man said cheerfully.

"I'm sorry, I—" Snape started in an icy voice.

"Oh, you must not remember me. No worries, no worries. I was Head Boy while you were at Hogwarts, but there are an awful lot of students at Hogwarts. I'm Deneb Colburn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

…

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Thank you very much to Berry64, PollyWantCookie, argyle owl and Mywaychan for reading and reviewing! Each and every review is greatly appreciated.


	11. Deneb

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Deneb**

"What are you doing here?" I asked my brother Deneb in a barely restrained hostile tone.

"You know, it's funny, I was telling Adelaide," he indicated the girl by his side, "About my Hogwarts experience and Hogsmeade and I thought, 'Why not just show her Hogsmeade itself?' Bonding time, you know. I had no idea I might see you here!" he smiled, and I was sure he was lying through his teeth.

"Pleasant story," I said coolly.

His daughter Adelaide was looking between me and Snape with a shy look on her face. Deneb, seeming to notice this, picked her up and said "This is your Aunt Liseli, say 'Hello, Aunt Liseli.'" Adelaide, for her part, hid her face on her father's shoulder in an adorable manner and mumbled something. "She's very shy," Deneb explained smiling, looking at both Snape and I.

"I didn't know you and, uh, Mariana had had another child. Does that make four?" I said, attempting to pick a neutral topic of conversation.

"Yep, Marie-Ange and I are the proud parents of four children now." Damn, I had gotten his wife's name wrong. "We'd like to have five. That seems to be a good number." I could tell where he was going with this and I had to keep myself from wincing. "I mean, we were five, growing up," he smiled again. "That reminds me—" _Like hell it does_, I thought. "Tarazet said he visited you, and he was afraid he might have upset you a bit. Not started off on the right foot, if you know what I mean." And there it was, the reason for his visit: he was trying to get into Tarazet's good graces by talking to me on his behalf.

"You could say that," I said slowly, with a touch of annoyance in my voice. I noticed Snape's eyes darting between my eyes and Deneb's.

"He feels really bad, he does." Deneb's eyes looked mournfully serious, but they also had the restless gleam they always had when he was plotting. "He wants to make it right, apologize."

"I don't want to see him again," I sharply articulated my syllables, ignoring the part of me that did want to see him again. I was still mad at him.

His eyes gained a sad, pleading look, but the restless gleam was still there. "Liseli, imagine yourself in him shoes. He's been suffering, suffering, for the last fifteen years. He comes out of it scarred, unsure. He hasn't had human contact in a very long time—can you blame him if he's a bit socially awkward?"

"He was beyond 'a bit socially awkward,'" I was about to sneer the words out, glad to have a legitimate reason to be mad at him, until I saw Deneb's daughter's wide blue eyes looking at me. Instead I said the sentence in a meek, subdued tone. _I bet he brought his daughter just to restrain me, _I thought, annoyed_._

He spread his hands in a plaintive gesture. "So he made some mistakes. We've all made mistakes, said things we regret, hurt people we didn't mean to. You and Tarazet always had a special bond--"

"No we didn't," I snapped, eyeing Snape; I didn't want to be associated with Tarazet any more than necessary.

He softly shook his head. "If you could just find it in your heart to reconcile with him…" he trailed off. The word "No" was on the tip of my tongue but I saw that his daughter's innocent face was turned towards me and I hesitated to say such a word so callously. "Just promise me you'll think about it," he pleaded.

"Fine," I curtly replied.

"Thank you, Liseli. That's all I'm asking. Family harmony is so important," and he smiled broadly. The restless gleam had yet to leave his eyes. "You know, I feel like it's been forever since we've seen each other. Why don't you come to my house for dinner sometime? You can see all of your nieces and nephews."

"Thank you for the invitation," I said politely, and a bit coolly.

"No, really, I insist," he cheerfully replied.

"I'll look at my calendar and get back to you," I sighed in a resigned tone.

"Great, so I'll see you then! Bye," and he turned towards Zonko's with his young daughter.

I started quickly and angrily walking back in the direction of Hogwarts, feeling rather like an animal with the coils of a booby trap wrapped around it. Snape hesitated and then said roughly "Do you think his motives are as pure as he makes them out to be?"

"Oh, they're pure alright," I spat out. "Pure self-interest."

"I got that impression," Snape said lightly (or lightly for him, at least).

I angrily continued my previously thought, "To Deneb the world is a giant chess board, and people are pieces to be manipulated for his own victory."

I fumed silently for minutes, before Snape said, "Is Tarazet the man who was in your classroom almost a week ago?" I pursed my lips and nodded. "One of your brothers?" I nodded again.

Neither of us said another word until we arrived at Hogwarts. I announced "I'm going to my quarters," hoping that he would take the hint and stop following me. He stopped as I turned down the hallway towards my room and I saw a look of indecisiveness crossed his face. I was surprised to see any emotion on his face, but I simply continued on my way, ignoring him.

"Don't let your family get to you, Liseli," he harshly and suddenly said to my retreating back. I stayed rooted to the spot, completely and utterly shocked that Snape had said something which, if you ignored the tone, was downright supportive. _Wow, he may have a soul yet,_ I thought to myself. _And here I was so sure he'd had a snogging session with a Dementor when he was younger._

_

* * *

_

I went back to eating all of my meals in the Grand Hall. Professor Sprout seemed particularly happy that I was back again, and cheerfully chatted with me. None of the professors mentioned Tarazet, or Deneb, to my great relief. I didn't talk to Snape, either, but because of chance, not because of a desire to avoid him. About a week later, Snape and I exchanged our first words since visiting Hogsmeade.

"When were you planning on cursing the Chocolate Frogs, Colburn?" Snape asked me in a rather disinterested tone.

"I was thinking of presenting them on Halloween, actually," I replied. "That way it'd seem less suspicious."

He nodded. "I'll make sure to brew the antidote for that day, then."

I was mildly nervous on Halloween morning. I had stayed up late the previous night individually cursing large numbers of chocolate frogs, and although I had the antidote sitting in my office, I kept thinking of ways my lesson plan could go wrong. When students started trickling in before the start of class, they looked mildly surprised at the individual chocolate frogs I had placed on each desk. "Oh, they're for all of you. Halloween treat," I explained in a cheerful tone, feeling as though it must be terribly obvious that I was lying.

By the start of class, all of the students had heard my false explanation and believed me, as evidenced by most of them consuming the candy. "Now," I started, clasping my hands together. "Who had a Chocolate Frog?" Excepting a few, all of the students raised their hand. "Now, who thought to check for curses first?" The cheerfulness quickly drained from all of the faces in front of me, and some gained worried or even horrified looks. "Knowing how to check items, including food, for curses is an important skill," I said in a rather teacherly voice.

"But you didn't actually curse them, right?" an alarmed Ron Weasley blurted out. A chocolate frog leg was still sticking out of his mouth.

"No, I did," I said lightly, and the look of alarm increased on many student's faces. "Your assignment is to determine the curse and the appropriate counter curse. There are replicate Chocolate Frogs in the box at the front of the classroom, so please take one. I should let you know, that it's a rather weak curse, and that I have the antidote should you be unable to determine the counter curse, so don't worry too much."

The students quickly bustled up the front of the class to grab a Chocolate Frog for analysis, and soon the room was filled with students casting different spells on the candy or scouring the textbook for information, their noses mere centimeters from its pages. I was happy to see that some of them at least, were progressing: finding the right spells to cast, determining the curse, and finally the counter curse. By the end of the period, only about a quarter of the class had failed to discover the counter curse, and I told them to come and drink some of the antidote.

The lesson plan went equally well with my other classes, and by the end of the day I was giddy with a feeling of accomplishment. I decided to go to visit Hagrid, as I had taken to doing every couple of days. Besides, it was Halloween, and I was excited for the evening's planned feast. It was late afternoon when I went, and I was unsurprised to find Harry, Hermione and Ron there; they seemed to visit Hagrid quite frequently, also.

"Quite interesting lesson today, Professor Colburn," Harry grinned at me.

"Yeah, certainly grabbed our attention," Ron nervously laughed.

I couldn't help but start laughing. "That was Snape's idea. Or, rather, the candy was my idea. He was the one who suggested that I actually curse it, though."

"So it was actually cursed?" Hermione inquired. "I wasn't sure. I thought maybe you just wanted to see how we reacted under pressure, and I didn't feel the side effects of any curse."

"Oh, that's because the curse's effect is that it makes you feel ill if you eat anything. So unless you ate another Chocolate Frog after the first one, you wouldn't feel anything," I explained.

Hermione nodded knowledgably. "Okay. See Ron, it's good you didn't eat the Chocolate Frog you were working on," she said pointedly.

Just before Ron replied, I felt a sudden pain from my left arm. "But they're just so delicious!" Ron exclaimed. "And besides, I got one of the Wizard trading cards I didn't have yet. I thought I might continue the streak," he said dejectedly.

"Oh!" I let out. "I just remembered something. I told Snape I'd help him with something tonight. I figured since he brewed the antidote for me, the least I can do is return the favor. I have to run. Sorry I couldn't stay very long," I smiled apologetically at Hagrid and rushed out the door.

...

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter's world.

A/N: A huge thank you to JackSwagger_fan, PollyWantCookie, argyle owl and Mywaychan for reviewing. I really appreciate every review!


	12. MarieAnge

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Marie-Ange**

The next day there was a Slytherin versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match. When I got to the stands I was mildly torn as to whether I should sit next to my friend Hagrid, or whether I should sit in the sea of green that was the Slytherins. In the end I decided that I ought to show solidarity with my fellow Slytherins, and took one of the few remaining empty seats near the back. What must have been a minute before the game started, Snape appeared and took the seat next to me; I noticed he had tired-looking dark circles underneath his eyes.

Without a greeting or looking at me he asked in a bored tone "How did the cursed chocolates go?"

"They went well. About three quarters of the students were able to determine the curse and counter-curse. Thanks for the antidote," I said grudgingly, feeling as though by acknowledging his contribution I might eventually owe him something.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" I heard the speaker's magnified voice booming across the field. "I give you, the Slytherin Quidditch team! Urquhart, Vaisey, Warrington, Crabbe, Goyle, Bletchy aaaand Malfoy!" They emerged one by one, all in their green and silver team robes; I noticed that Draco frame was substantially smaller than all of his other teammates. _Makes sense,_ I thought. _Seekers have to move quickly. A smaller frame is less weight to move and less air resistance. _I noticed the same build distribution was true of the Ravenclaw team, as they flew onto the field with their blue and bronze robes.

"And Ravenclaw starts with the Quaffle! Bradley passes to Chambers, Chambers is trying to gain some distance, but—oh! Vaisey has managed to steal the Quaffle and is racing towards the Ravenclaw keeper. Pass to Warrington, Urquhart, back to Vaisey. Oh! Did you see that? The Quaffle has been dropped! I've never seen a Bludger hit the quaffle mid-pass! That is some excellent skill on the part of Ravenclaw beater Inglebee. Ravenclaw starts with the Quaffle."

The enthusiastic commentator continued like this for some time. I noticed that Draco was slowly circling the top of the arena, while the Ravenclaw seeker was moving more erratically, staying at the bottom for a few minutes and then passing through the game itself, returning to the near-ground level again, etc..

It had been about a half hour, and there had yet to be a sign of the snitch. The Ravenclaw team, despite their mainly defensive strategy, was ahead of the Slytherin team by forty points. And then, suddenly, Draco made a sudden movement towards the ground of the arena. The Ravenclaw seeker looked at him, and then raced in front of him, but Draco quickly turned ninety degrees, and outstretched his hand. He held up his clenched fist, triumphant and landed the ground. "And Malfoy's first movement was a bluff!" the commentator announced. "But Ravenclaw fell for it, and Slytherin has captured the snitch, for 180 to 70. Just like those tricky Slytherins to bluff." But the Slytherin side of the stadium had already erupted into cheers. There were bangs as some conjured green confetti that exploded from the tips of their wands.

I accidentally (and happily, I might add) separated from Snape in the mass of people leaving the stadium. I was sure that even with a Slytherin victory Snape would still sound bored or cold. I did, however, see Hagrid leaving the stadium, and sure that he would be more positive, I ran to catch up with him.

"Hello, Hagrid!" I greeted the immense man.

"Liseli! Congrats on the Slytherin victory," he smiled.

I noticed that the Potter trio was also walking with Hagrid so I greeted them in turn, before I turned to Harry and said "So what'd you think of the seekers' strategies?"

"That was tricky what Malfoy did at the end, but I remember doing something similar once, so I can't really specifically dislike that maneuver," he smiled.

"I thought the Ravenclaw Seeker didn't have the best strategy," I said, referencing the whole game more than just the end.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

"It just seems like they didn't have a strategy at all, that they were just flying where their whim took him. You could see that Malfoy had specifically planned to use the Bird of Prey approach, you know, circling the top of the arena. And he combined that with the Inverse Bird of Prey approach, circling the bottom and looking up, but I didn't really see anything like that for the Ravenclaw Seeker," I explained.

"You know a lot about Seeker strategies," Harry seemed surprised.

"When I was at Hogwarts I had a boyfriend who was a Seeker," I replied, wondering if that piece of information was too personal for me to share with one of my students. "He used to talk my ear off going on about Seeker strategies."

Harry smiled, and there was a second of silence before Hagrid turned to me and said, "I didn't see you at the Halloween feast. Were you able to come at all? Snape wasn't there, either, but I hope he didn't force you to miss the feast."

"Huh? What do you mean?" I said, feeling as though I was missing the piece of the puzzle necessary to understand what he was saying.

"You know, you said you had to help Snape with something in the evening to repay a favor," Hagrid reminded me.

"Oh, right!" I suddenly remembered the excuse I had given them for my sudden departure last night. "You know, I actually didn't see Snape yesterday. I couldn't find him, and then I started feeling sort of ill so I just went to my quarters and rested."

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked, concerned. "You look sort of pale, and tired."

I was absolutely exhausted, but I had hoped it wouldn't be visible. "I'm fine. I think I actually ate one of the cursed Chocolate Frogs, which is quite embarrassing!" I let out a forced laugh and hoped they wouldn't remember that a simple counter-curse would have healed any after-effects of the curse.

* * *

The next couple of weeks went by rather smoothly and peacefully. I had begrudgingly set a date to have dinner at Deneb's house, but I had not made any movements to contact Tarazet, even though my thoughts sometimes drifted both to us growing up and to our more recent fight. I knew I was being stubborn, but it seemed it would be the simplest thing to not see him. Besides, I didn't want to be seen with a convicted criminal.

It was a Sunday in late November, and I was chatting pleasantly with Professor Sprout at lunch about the Weird Sister's latest song, when she looked at her watch and stood up. "Oh, dear, I just remembered that I have an appointment with one of my students in about five minutes. I must run," she apologized. "We can just continue our conversation at dinner tonight," she said kindly.

"Actually I'm not going to be at dinner tonight," I smiled apologetically. I didn't want to mention that I was going to be seeing one of my brothers so instead I used only his name and said, "I'm having dinner with Deneb and Marion. Mariana."

"Marie-Ange," I heard Snape's quiet voice from my left. _Damn it!_ I thought. _Even he remembers her name, and he only heard it once._

"Alright, I'll talk to you another time then," Sprout said and she waved good-bye.

I spent the hours between lunch and dinner dreading dinner. It seemed as though in no time at all it was 7 pm, and I was throwing a handful of Floo powder into a fire. When I stepped out of the fire again, I was in a well-furnished living room. The floor was covered with a plush, clean white carpet and all of the furniture was made of a dark, expensive-looking wood. A woman with dark blonde hair and a heavily made-up face turned towards me. "Liseli! It's such a pleasure to see you again," she greeted me warmly and gave me a peck on each cheek. Instead of returning the embrace, I just stood there and bore it with a grimace that I hoped could pass for a smile.

Deneb walked into the room, and smiled pleasantly. "Punctual as always, Liseli. Marie-Ange, would you go fetch the children?"

She obediently left the room and quickly returned with two children behind her. "Laurent, Adelaide, you remember your Aunt Liseli, right?" Laurent was only a few years older than Adelaide, and they greeted me with quiet, polite greetings. "Simone and Didier are at school, right now. It's Simone's last year, and Didier's about three-quarters of the way done. They're both top-notch students, of course," she boasted.

"Oh, where do they go?" I asked, hoping that they didn't go to Hogwarts and I was just too unobservant to notice.

"They go to L'École des Sorciérs," Marie-Ange beamed. "It's in northern France. Their professors are absolutely top notch. It's the best school there is. I had a spot reserved for me there, being the talented young witch I was, but my parents immigrated to England when I was only six," she sighed before continuing. "But on the upside, I wouldn't have gone to Hogwarts if we hadn't moved, and that's where I met Deneb, so my life's turned out magnificent after all!" I had to keep my exasperation from showing on my face; I had already heard her life story multiple times, and I didn't want to hear her go on about what a wonderful husband Deneb was.

I wondered if Deneb was also getting tired of hearing that same story over and over again, for at that point he said, "Honey, why don't you go set the table?"

"Of course," she smiled at him with what could only be described as a look of unending admiration and devotion. I wondered if she had any brain cells behind her pretty face. Oh wait, she had been in Hufflepuff. So that'd be a no.

"Dinner is ready," she announced from the adjacent room. We took our seats, and she arranged the napkins for the two young children. "It's so lovely for you to join us. You should have brought your husband, too. I assume he was busy with work?" she said vapidly.

"I haven't married since I last saw you, Marie-Ange," I said in a neutral tone, masking my annoyance.

"But Adelaide said you were with a man when she saw you," Marie-Ange insisted.

I frowned, trying to think what she was referring to. It then struck me with a pang of horror: Adelaide had thought that Snape was my husband. "Oh no, I'm not married to Snape," I hurriedly said.

"Oh," Marie-Ange said disappointedly. "But you're in your mid-thirties now, aren't you? Don't forget that you aren't going to be able to have children forever."

"I'm aware, thank you," I said curtly with a forced smile. Merlin, she sounded exactly like my mother: a traditional pure-blood.

"Maman ne l'aime pas, non?" I heard Adelaide quietly say to Laurent.

"Non, elle croit qu'elle n'est pas une vraie femme," Laurent whispered back.

"Elle est un homme!?" I didn't know what they were saying, but Adelaide looked rather surprised.

"T'es une idiote," Laurent rolled his eyes and that ended their brief conversation.

"Their siblings have been teaching them French," Marie-Ange beamed at them. "I'm afraid I've forgotten my French, because I immigrated when I was so young. I have very fond memories of speaking it when I was young and still lived in France, though. I remember going to Southern France in the summer when I was younger, since we had a beach house there. Unfortunately, when we moved we could only bring our House Elf from our normal residence, and we had to sell our House Elf from the beach house."

"What a heart-breaking story," I said sarcastically with a touch of bitterness in my voice. As if she had taken a great sacrifice to live with only _one_ House Elf.

She seemed oblivious to my tone and said "I know, it's so sad."

"How has teaching at Hogwarts been?" Deneb asked, gently switching the topic of conversation.

I turned towards him and replied, "It's been very nice, thank you. It's very rewarding to see the students progressing."

"Have you seen the Headmaster much?" he asked in an off-hand tone, but his eyes moved restlessly, as though scheming.

"No, not very much. He's a very busy man," I replied, wondering what Deneb was getting at.

"You should talk to him more. He's a very kind, interesting wizard. I talked to him often when I was Headboy, and Prefect," he added, as way of explanation. "Do you think he still remembers me?" he said in a falsely off-hand voice again.

"He hasn't mentioned you. And I don't know how much he takes to visitors on Hogwart's grounds," I said lightly, pre-empting anything else he might try.

He nodded lightly and dropped the conversation, choosing a new topic of conversation. "So have you talked with our youngest brother yet?" I felt as though he was going down a checklist of things he wanted to get me to do.

"No, I haven't. I'm not sure if I'm going to," I said hesitantly, sure that Deneb would start trying to convince me to follow a different course of action.

"Oh, but you promised that you were going to," he said in a mildly confused, disappointed voice.

"I said I was going to think about it," I explained in a restrained tone.

"Liseli, you can't just disown one of your siblings. Family is there for each other, through thick and thin," he said in a softly pleading tone. I was sure all of his tones were just calculated acting, but his words still pulled at my heart. "Tarazet really does care about you. Just promise me that you'll talk to him?" I looked into his light blue eyes. His facial expression was softly pleading but his eyes didn't match the expression; they had the restless gleam they always had.

"Fine. I'll owl him," I said curtly. When I flooed back to Hogwarts that night I was both frustrated that I had allowed myself to be manipulated, and secretly glad I had been forced to take such a course of action.

…

Disclaimer: I don't own the magical world the Colburns live in.

A/N: Thank you very, very much to Berry64, PollyWantCookie, Mywaychan and argyle owl. for reviewing! For a few quick comments on the chapter, I want to clarify that I don't have anything against French people: Marie-Ange is French so her children have a reason to not go to Hogwarts. Secondly, I didn't translate the French conversation in-story, because it's not important to the plot, but in case you're curious here's a translation.

Adelaide: "Mama doesn't like her, right?"

Laurent: "No, she thinks that she isn't a real woman."

Adelaide: "She's a man!?"

Laurent: "You're an idiot."


	13. Diagon Alley

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Diagon Alley**

I didn't owl Tarazet immediately. I didn't owl him for a couple of weeks, actually, and then I only wrote a couple of sentences.

_Tarazet,_

_I'm sorry we got into a fight. Maybe we can have lunch or something, although I'm busy until after the end of Hogwarts' break. Don't come unexpectedly onto Hogwarts' grounds again._

_Liseli_

I was actually expecting to have plenty of free time during the break, but I was certainly in no rush to see him again. My owl quickly arrived back with a small piece of parchment attached to its leg.

_Liseli,_

_I'm also sorry that we fought. Lunch sounds nice; we can catch up like old times. Does The Three Broomsticks sound good? I don't have any specific plans, so you can set the date. _

_Tarazet_

I wrote back with a time and date and said "The Hog's Head. Not the Three Broomsticks." I didn't want anybody to see me with him, and The Hog's Head was much less populated. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that it would be at least a month before I would have to see him. The rest of the weeks before Winter Break passed smoothly, excluding the students' complaints that it was unfair for me to give them a large test directly before the break. Near the beginning of break, I decided to go to the Flourish and Blott's located in Diagon Alley and I was scanning the shelves when I heard a familiar voice.

"Come on, Hermione, it's break. _Break_. As in 'Take a break from studying.'"

"I am not studying. I just want something to read for fun," I heard the bushy-haired girls' voice. "And besides, even if I was studying, what would be wrong with that? You could do with studying a bit more, Ron." I smiled at their topic of conversation, and continued reading the book titles in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the aforementioned girl turn into the aisle I was standing in. "Hello, Professor," she greeted me, clearly surprised to be seeing me during break.

The other two thirds of their trio turned into the same aisle and gave me the same mildly surprised greeting. They were with a tired-looking man who had light brown hair streaked with grey. "What are you doing here, Professor?" Harry asked in a friendly tone.

"I'm looking for some supplemental reading materials for your class," I explained. "I feel that the chapter on counter-hexes isn't in-depth enough."

"Are you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" the man with them asked.

"Why yes I am. My name's Liseli Colburn," I said, holding out my hand.

"I'm Remus Lupin, it's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled, shaking my hand. "I taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year at Hogwarts."

"I remember reading your reports on your classes," I smiled excitedly. "Yours was the only one with neat handwriting."

He laughed. "I suppose that's a compliment, so thank you."

"We were going to go to lunch after this," Hermione nervously started. "Would you like to join us, Professor Colburn?"

I happily agreed, and all of us continued looking for the books we wanted, after which we walked to The Leaky Cauldron.

"You know, you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" Lupin asked, scrutinizing my face.

"No, I don't believe so," I said calmly, masking my slight nervousness. "We were at Hogwarts at the same time, though, so you might have seen me in the hallways."

Lupin nodded but seemed unconvinced. Besides giving me a couple quick quizzical glances during the meal, he dropped that topic and moved onto others. At one point, the trio was talking excitedly about their plans for Christmas, and I got the impression that they were all living together over the break. In that context, I heard them say the words "Grimmauld Place," and I had to keep myself from releasing a small gasp as I felt my heartbeat speed up. The conversation wandered again, though, and soon we were talking about other things. At the end of the meal I saw Lupin looking at me again, when a look of realization crossed his face.

"I know where I've seen you before!" he exclaimed. "You were Regulus Black's girlfriend."

I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione simultaneously turn to look at me with only slightly masked looks of shock. I froze, but managed to maintain a neutral facial expression, my mind racing as to how to distance myself from the known Death Eater. I intentionally frowned and slowly stated, "We only dated for a bit. It wasn't very serious."

Lupin frowned slightly, clearly thinking. "But there was talk of marriage, wasn't there?" _Damn, there goes that approach, _I thought.

"Traditional pureblood families always try and rush their children into marriages," I explained. That was true at least—Deneb's wife, for example, had dropped out of Hogwarts to marry him. "I certainly didn't agree with that, and I had no intention of marrying him."

"But you did date Sirius's brother? You dated a Death Eater?" Harry was no longer doing a very good job containing his shock, and he was starting to become angry.

"I ought to remind you that Regulus was not a Death Eater from the day he was born," my voice had a severely annoyed, even angry tone. "It's rarely known who is a Death Eater, until they're killed or imprisoned. As far as his views on pureblood supremacy and Muggle-born wizards and witches, that was one of the many issues where we had drastically different opinions, and I would expect all of you to know that by now," I finished.

They seemed to realize that they had started to overreact, for there was an embarrassed silence before Harry said, "I didn't mean to imply that you were a pureblood supremacist, professor. I'm sorry, I was just surprised. I haven't exactly heard the best things about Regulus."

"It's alright, I just don't want you to walk away thinking that I shared his beliefs," I calmed down slightly.

We were quiet for a moment, before Ron attempted to break the awkward silence, "So…how about those Chudley Cannons?"

We delicately went onto the subject of Quidditch and, all in all, we managed to end the conversation on a positive note, so that when we split off it was without any detrimental beliefs or awkward feelings. I left for my next errand and when I walked into Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, I accidentally bumped into someone nearby one of the store's displays. "Sorry," I said disinterestedly, not bothering to look at the person I was apologizing to.

"Hello, Colburn," I heard a cool voice say.

Startled, I looked up to see a familiar hook nose and curtains of greasy hair. "Hello, Snape. Fancy seeing you here." I regretted the last sentence as soon as I said it. I mean, really, of all the stores in the Wizarding World this is the one he'd be most likely to be in, and I was sure that he was going to point that out—

"I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts," he said pointedly.

"I'm aware of that," I mentally winced.

"What business do you have here?" he asked in his standard bored tone. It seemed to be one of the few tones he ever used, and I was starting to think that he must just always conceal his emotions, for no one could possibly find everything in the world that boring.

"I'm buying ingredients so I can make the potion to copy some pages," I held up the textbook I had just bought.

"Why on earth would you do that?" he drawled, as though I was missing something very obvious. Before I could ask what he meant, he continued on. "The potions cupboards have plenty of ingredients. They're not mine, they're Hogwarts'."

"Oh," I said, feeling quite stupid. "I didn't know that," I sheepishly added.

"Clearly." His eyes flickered to the textbook I was holding. "What are you using that textbook for?"

"I'm going to use this book's chapter on counter-hexes. It's more in depth than the one the students have right now," I explained matter-of-factly.

"Really, you think so?" he drawled. "I find that the book by Nero Nex explains things much better. Nex has a chapter on counter-hexes, and then a whole other chapter on counter-curses. He also has a unit on when to use potions and when to use charms to treat the after-effects of a curse." Snape glanced at the potions ingredients in-front of him, while a look of indecision crossed his face. "I'm almost done," he hesitated. "We can go to the bookstore together." I felt like retorting that maybe I did not want to go to the bookstore with him, but I held my tongue. Snape wasn't exactly the social type, so I got the feeling that he was doing me a favor, even if he didn't say so specifically. He went to the front of the store and bought a small bag of what looked like shrunken glass marbles, before we walked back to Flourish and Blott's together. Once there, he found Nex's book quickly, and then took to scanning the shelves, pulling out other books which he believed were well-written.

Part of me felt that Snape was dictating what I should do in my class, and was quite offended at this. A smaller part of me couldn't help but be terribly impressed that Snape was so well read. After that, neither of us had anything left to do at Diagon Alley, so we both apparated to Hogsmeade, which was the closest specific location outside of Hogwarts' anti-apparation field.

"So, do a lot of professors stay for Christmas day?" I asked, curious what the trend was.

"Most," he replied succinctly. "Are you going to see Deneb?" he asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"No, Deneb's probably trying to invite prestigious people to his house for Christmas Day. He always does that, try to suck up to the big shots," I explained. "I wouldn't want to go even if I was invited, though."

"I take it your dinner with him a couple of weeks ago didn't go very well?" Snape drawled.

"His wife spent the entire time boasting, and he spent the entire time trying to manipulate me," I said bitterly. "So, no." I looked at Snape suspiciously and suddenly wondered if he had some alternative motive for asking.

He met my eyes and added with a frown, "I'm not Deneb. I'm not asking how the dinner went for my own benefit."

Embarrassed, I looked away. "Sorry, talking about Deneb always puts me on my guard."

"It's fine," he replied succinctly, again.

"So are you seeing family on Christmas Day?" I asked, deciding to continue the conversation.

"No." Snape seemed to be one for short responses today. "I don't have any remaining family," he barely elaborated.

"Oh. Sorry," I said rather roughly, feeling that Snape would not be one for a pity-filled voice.

"I'm not," he said bitterly. _Merlin, it sounds like his relationship with his family is almost as bad as my relationship with my family, _I mused_. No wonder he was so sympathetic about Deneb earlier._

…

Disclaimer: So I'm getting sort of tired of writing a disclaimer after each chapter so I'm just going to have this be a broad disclaimer for every remaining chapter: I don't own anything from Harry Potter's world; that honor belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Thanks a million to Mywaychan and argyle owl for reviewing! Comments, critiques, just letting me know that somebody's reading, they're all really appreciated. On another note, I decided that I wanted to combine this chapter with the next chapter, but that would mess up my numbering system on my computer so instead I'm just doing a double update.


	14. Seginus and Matar

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Seginus and Matar**

I ended up procrastinating a fair amount on copying the needed pages of Nex's textbook. I didn't feel like going to Snape for the ingredients (even if he said I could), and although I owned a cauldron, it wasn't at Hogwarts; it was buried somewhere in my flat in London and I was feeling lazy enough over break that apparting there felt like an awful lot of effort. Finally, a couple of days before the end of break, I forced myself to do so.

I had a weak anti-apparting charm on my apartment, and since it was a building mostly inhabited by Muggles, I had to apparate in the alley nearby and hike up the several flights of stairs to my door. My apartment was dark, still and dusty. I illuminated the lights to be greeted by its familiar sight—it was now _light_, still and dusty. The small foyer/living room/dining room connected to my bedroom, in which I had a small closet. I didn't know where my cauldron was for sure, but I had a guess that it was somewhere at the back of my closet. After removing just about everything from the closet—old robes, a Muggle outfit I had used as a Halloween costume once, boxes of trinkets that I had no use for but couldn't bring myself to throw away—I found the cauldron. It had a large dent in it, but was otherwise in fairly good condition.

I carried it back into the foyer/living room/dining room, and almost dropped it in shock. My door was wide open and two men were standing in my apartment. Both of the men had short chestnut-colored hair and hollow-looking light blue eyes in sunken, sickly faces. The shorter of the two had a weaker jaw line and generally less well-defined features than the taller one. The taller one had, at one time, had a muscular frame, but instead of that muscle slowly turning into fat or disappearing it had simply become _mass_, mass which hung heavily on his bones and made it seem like he took up the entire room.

"Liseli," the taller one greeted me with an inclination of his head, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be standing in my apartment with his wand out.

"S-Seginus, Matar, what an unexpected surprise," I smiled falsely at my two oldest brothers—Death Eaters, the both of them. "Unexpected but pleasant, pleasant of course." My mind was racing; their presence seemed distinctly threatening, but my wand was in my pocket. I would have to subtly put down the cauldron in my hands before I could stop feeling vulnerable.

"We just wanted to have a little talk with you," Seginus, the taller one, continued in a nonchalant tone.

"You see, we don't really approve of some of your activities," Matar leapt in.

"Your career—"

"Your working for Dumbledore—"

"Your disrespect for Mother and Father--"

My eyes darted about the room, trying to think of a response. "You know, I haven't seen you two in so long," I falsely smiled again. "Let me set this cauldron down so I can come give you two a hug." I started moving towards a table, but suddenly what looked like a fiery snake leapt out of Seginus's wand and wrapped itself around my lower legs. I let out a yelp as I fell forward onto the floor, and I quickly made a movement for my wand.

"_Accio_ wand!" Matar yelled before I could so much as get my wand between my fingers.

I angrily glared at them, temporarily incapacitated and trapped. "What do you want?"

"We just want to talk," Matar said smoothly.

"And we want you to sit and listen without doing any funny stuff," Seginus elaborated.

"See, we've spent almost fifteen years in Azkaban," Matar continued.

"And we got around to asking ourselves why. Why did we spend almost fifteen torturous years in Azkaban?"

"For the cause."

"We wanted our pureblood family to be happy, to be able to flourish, without those Mudbloods and blood traitors taking away what is rightfully ours."

"And not just our family, but all pureblood families."

"So imagine our disappointment when we were released from Azkaban."

_Released. Yeah, sure_, I thought sarcastically. They had had life sentences. The only ones they were released by were other Death Eaters.

"And we come back home to find our family in pieces," Matar finished Seginus's thought for the umpteenth time.

"Deneb's trying to hold the family together, but we find that our beloved sister is playing the rebellious one."

I was starting to get rather aggravated. Not only were they twisting the story an extreme amount, the fiery snake immobilizing me was squeezing tighter and tighter, and I could feel its heat burn against my flesh.

"We discover that you haven't followed our loving parent's advice—"

"And what advice would that be?" I spat out, unable to hold my tongue any longer.

Matar looked surprised at being interrupted, before Seginus replied, "Why, that you should settle down and have a family, continue the line of pure blood." He said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But no, instead you have a job."

"We find you trying to start a career, and ignoring your true calling," Seginus continued the story they were telling.

I was glaring at them with as much hatred as I could muster—they sounded exactly like younger versions of my parents. At this point, though, I was only half concentrating on their words. The fiery snake had become extraordinarily painful. I could smell the burning cloth of my robes and burning flesh, and I was having to use every drop of energy to not cry out in pain. It felt as though it was steadily draining my energy.

"And then just to make things worse, we hear something, something which we can't believe at first."

"That you're working for Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore the Muggle lover, the reason for ours and so many fellow Death Eaters' imprisonments!"

"And you're cooperating with him."

"It was too much, we just couldn't take it."

"We decided that you'd rebelled too much."

"That you have learn your proper place." I continued glaring at them. As though they had the right to control my life!

"And we wanted to make sure your loyalties lie in the correct place." At these words the fiery snake intensified and a strangled cry issued from my mouth; it felt as though the Cruciatus curse was being performed on my lower legs.

"So that's all."

"And we'll be—ah—checking up on you."

"So make sure you take our advice."

Seginus waved his wand and the fiery snake wrapped around my lower legs disappeared instantly. Matar threw my wand at me, and with a small pop they both disapparated.

I felt weak, exhausted beyond belief. I was shaking all over, and my first attempt to stand resulted in my legs buckling underneath me. Unfortunately, Seginus and Matar had escaped from Azkaban long enough ago that the Dark Magic they had used on me had been full strength. I felt as though I simply wanted to stay lying on the floor, close my eyes and rest. I knew I couldn't do let myself do that, though, and my first thought was that somehow I had to get back to Hogwarts. By the second attempt I was able to shakily stand and walk outside of my apartment to apparate. I apparated to the edge of Hogwarts' anti-apparation barrier and started trudging across the field with small, slow steps. It had been quite a distance to apparate, and my exhaustion weighed on me like one hundred hippogriffs.

_Hospital wing, hospital wing_, I thought repeatedly to myself, as though by saying the words I would have enough strength to reach it. The little strength I had had directly after the curse was quickly disappearing. My steps became an uneven stagger, I continued walking while leaning against the wall, dark splotches were appearing in my vision, I couldn't focus my eyes on anything, the world seemed to be moving of its own volition, my legs couldn't hold out anymore, I tried to hold onto the wall, two men were walking down the hall, there was nothing on the wall for my fingers to grasp, the men stopped and looked towards me, the wall was slipping past my fingers, one of them was running towards me, the wall was slipping past my fingers…


	15. The Hospital Wing

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Hospital Wing**

I couldn't tell if I was awake or asleep, there were sounds in the background that I couldn't quite pinpoint, voices whose words I couldn't distinguish. I felt a hand on my chin, it seemed as though it was pulling my chin down slightly, something—a cup?--was being pressed against my lips, liquid was trickling into my mouth. The liquid started going down the wrong way, and I abruptly sat up, coughing. My eyes flew open and a second later the room came into focus. I was lying on a bed, and Madame Pomfrey was standing nearby, holding a cup with a purple liquid in it. A bit beyond Pomfrey stood Dumbledore, and a bit beyond that stood Snape.

"Do you remember what curse was used on you, Liseli?" Dumbledore asked with a concerned look on his face.

"I dun know. Theyn't say the incantation, but it looked like a fiery snake." To my great annoyance, my mouth was slightly slurring the words I said. I closed my eyes again, tired of looking between Pomfrey's and Dumbledore's concerned faces; I couldn't see Snape's face from where I was lying.

"Severus?" Dumbledore turned towards Snape.

For a second it looked like he was thinking. Then, he walked towards me and took a seat at the foot of the bed. I had no clue what he was doing, and he seemed to be ignoring that I was intently looking at him. He pointed his wand at my scorched lower legs and started muttering incantations that I couldn't quite catch. I felt a coolness spread throughout, and the throbbing pain was numbed slightly.

"She'll have to take a specific potion twice daily until the burn marks fade completely," he addressed Dumbledore, and I couldn't help but think _You know,_ _I _am_ in the room_.

"Could you tell us what happened, Liseli?" Dumbledore said gently.

"Well I was at my apartment, in London, when these two men entered my apartment—" I started.

"Did you recognize them?" Dumbledore asked softly.

I mentally cursed; I had been hoping to avoid saying that I knew them, but instead I nodded and said "They were Seginus and Matar. My two oldest brothers."

"Go on," he said gently.

"So I couldn't get my wand out subtly, since my hands were full—I was holding a cauldron—and when I made a move they used that spell," I indicated my legs.

"How long did they use it on you?" Snape said his first words to me.

"I don't know," I said, exasperated. I didn't particularly like having to tell the story of my brothers attacking me. "Fifteen, twenty minutes."

"Did Seginus and Matar say why they were there?" Dumbledore continued his gentle questions.

"Uh," I stalled to figure out what I was going to say. "They don't like it very much that I'm working at Hogwarts," I said meekly. "They're…Death Eaters…" I felt terribly ashamed and embarrassed at the last sentence, even though I was sure that Snape and Dumbledore already knew they were Death Eaters.

"Well, I assure you that you're safe while at Hogwarts. For now, I think we ought to let you get some rest." Here the Headmaster looked at Pomfrey, who nodded approvingly. "I'll stop by later," he added, and with that he walked out of the room. Madame Pomfrey left the other direction to grab me a change of robes, which left Snape standing alone in the room. It looked like he was hesitating, but then he abruptly turned to me and said in an angry tone "Liseli, why were you holding a cauldron?"

"I'm sorry?" The question was so out of the blue that I had no clue what he was referring to.

"You said you couldn't get your wand out because you were holding a cauldron. Why were you holding a cauldron?" he repeated his question.

"That's why I was at my apartment: to grab my cauldron," I explained. It seemed obvious to me, but I suppose I hadn't told them that.

"Did you not realize that I must have extra cauldrons?" he demanded.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. He seemed rather annoyed, and I didn't know why. "It seems silly to borrow a cauldron when I have my own," I replied, my answer once again seeming extremely obvious to me. A question of my own had just leapt into my mind, and I decided that I was going to say it, even if he was still extremely annoyed. "Who found me?" I bravely asked.

"Dumbledore and I saw you collapsing against a wall," he informed me briefly, and made to stride out of the room.

I struggled to recall the last thing before I fainted, and vaguely remembered two men walking down the hallway, one of them running towards me. "But I remember someone sprinting towards me," I called after him, confused. Neither Snape nor Dumbledore seemed the sprinter type. Had I been hallucinating?

"Last I checked, 116 year old men do not run anywhere," he told me coldly as he left the Hospital Wing. I continued gazing at the empty doorway, puzzled. That seemed to imply _he_ had been the one I saw running, but I could not imagine the Potions Master ever running. Briskly striding, quickly walking, yes, but running meant that you were in a great rush; somehow I could not imagine him ever caring enough about anything to be in a rush. Snape returned several hours later when I was just drifting off to sleep. I heard my name but, assuming it must've been the start of a dream, I ignored it until he barked "Liseli!" a dynamic louder.

"Huh? Wha?" I said oh-so-eloquently, my eyelids fluttering open.

"Drink this," he commanded, holding out a beaker filled with greenish-blue fluid.

"What is it?" I asked reflexively.

"It'll cause the after-effects of the curse to slowly disappear. It's the potion you're supposed to drink twice a day," he explained matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Thank you, Severus," I said rather quietly, but I got the impression he had heard me.

* * *

The next two days passed rather slowly. I had had a few visitors, namely Hagrid and Sprout, who both said that they had heard that I was attacked by Death Eaters. I was perfectly happy for that version of the story to be going around, because it meant I didn't have to mention that those Death Eaters were my brothers. Otherwise, the only people I saw were Pomfrey and Snape. I won't lie: I didn't quite the purpose of Madame Pomfrey. She brought me my meals, and would chat with me, but it was Snape who stopped by twice a day to cast the necessary spells and give me the necessary potions.

On my third day there, Pomfrey announced that I had a visitor and then let them into the room. I had been expecting someone like Flitwick or McGonagall, so when I saw who it was my face went from a cheery smile to narrowed, angry eyes.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I glared at the skeletal frame. Tarazet seemed unfazed by my greeting and nonchalantly walked towards me. My mind was yelling, _Don't bring up the last time we saw each other, fifteen years ago! _Saying that out loud would have, of course, brought it up and had the opposite effect. Instead, I venomously said "I told you not to come to Hogwarts again."

"Technically you said not to come 'unexpectedly,'" he replied lightly.

"And what is this, then?" I asked bitterly.

He shrugged his bony shoulders. "I wouldn't call it unexpectedly. I owled Dumbledore and was escorted here by Pomfrey."

"You owled Dumbledore? You should tell Deneb; he'd be ecstatic. He kept saying I should talk to Dumbledore. For his own ultimate benefit, of course," I continued on in my bitter tone.

"Deneb does everything for his own ultimate benefit." His tone implied that he had long stopped caring about hat.

There was a pause and with a slightly less bitter tone I said, "So why are you here?" I didn't think that Tarazet's motives would be pure self-interest, as Deneb's always were.

"I hear my sister's in the hospital wing, bed-ridden, what am I supposed to do?" The skeleton walked closer and took a seat in the chair by the head of my bed.

I glared at him out of the corner of my eye and said, "Where'd you hear that?"

"A snidget told me," Tarazet replied seriously. He seemed to be in a much better mood than when I last saw him; he was starting to remind me of his pre-Azkaban days.

"Was this snidget attached at the hip to another snidget?" I eyed him warily.

He understood my reference to Seginus and Matar, who were so close they might as well have been attached at the hip. "No, it was a manipulative snidget who cares about getting on everyone's good side."

"Does this snidget have a snidget wife who's vapid and annoying?" I asked, referencing Marie-Ange to check that "manipulative snidget" was referring to Deneb.

"That's the one." Our conversation was so light, relatively, that it almost reminded me of the old days.

"How do you think manipulative snidget knew?" I asked disinterestedly; I already had my own theory.

"Something to do with attached-at-the-hips snidgets, I imagine," he was starting to sound angry. It wouldn't have surprised me in the least if Seginus and Matar had told Deneb; Deneb would not have done anything, short of informing Tarazet, because there would have been no net benefit for himself if he sided with me over my two oldest brothers.

The door to the room opened and we simultaneously looked to see who it was. Snape's eyes landed on Tarazet and a sneer started forming on the Potion Master's face. "Liseli, I brought your potion," he was now focusing all his attention on me, intentionally ignoring my brother.

"Thank you, Severus," I took the cup filled with aqua-green liquid and drank it. Snape continued standing there, though, and Tarazet looked as though he was starting to become annoyed.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk with my sister," Tarazet said icily.

"Go ahead," Snape replied smoothly, not budging a centimeter.

Tarazet's facial expression visibly became more aggravated and he angrily stated, "Let me rephrase that. May I please talk with my sister without a man whose name I don't even know standing ten centimeters away eavesdropping?"

"Severus Snape," he introduced himself. It almost looked as though Snape was enjoying taunting my youngest brother.

At this point Tarazet stood up from his chair, and I couldn't help but notice that he was more than a head taller than the greasy-haired man in front of him. "Snape, huh? I remember you. You were the boy that Regulus's brother was always hexing."

The mild amusement on Snape's face vanished instantly and was replaced by a look of deep loathing. "Let me guess," he sneered, "You're the boy that exploded Regulus Black's cauldron in potions class?" Tarazet's pale waxy face gained an ugly flush. "Now, judging from the last time I saw you, no, you may not talk to Liseli alone," Snape's hate-filled voice finished. He grabbed the book of my nightstand and sat in a chair on the other side of the room, presumably reading.

Tarazet slowly took his seat and glared angrily at Snape's profile. We all sat silently for a good few minutes; I think my brother was hoping that Snape would leave, but he seemed to be ignoring us. "Biscuit?" I said to Tarazet suddenly, wanting him to stop staring at Snape with daggers in his eyes.

"Huh?" He snapped his head in my direction, as though breaking out of a trance. Hagrid had brought me a plate of biscuits when he had visited and I held these out to him now. "They have chocolate, and Merlin knows you need that," I added, referencing his stay in Azkaban.

"I think I'd need more chocolate than that contained in a single biscuit," he said sarcastically, but he still took one from the plate.

I frowned slightly, as I often did when I was thinking. "When did you get out?"

"A couple of days before the last time I saw you," he coolly replied, and I felt my heart twinge as I realized I was probably one of the first, if not the first, person he had talked to after fifteen years of isolation. Tarazet either didn't see my emotion, or didn't respond, for he casually focused his attention on the biscuit and took a bite. Or to be more accurate, tried to take a bite of the biscuit. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as he looked at the biscuit which his teeth had not even managed to dent.

"My friend, Hagrid, is a great person, but not exactly the best cook," I explained.

"You're friends with Hagrid? That dimwit half-breed who lives by the Forbiddean Forest?" Tarazet sneered.

"Don't insult my friends," I snapped at him angrily, disappointed that he had reverted to his elitist pure-blood views so quickly.

"It's not an insult, it's a fact" he snapped back.

"You will not disrespect my friends. Period," I stated with a finality in my voice.

"You disappoint me," he said in a whisper so quiet that it barely reached my ear. "And you couldn't even defend yourself against Seginus and Matar," he added after a second, slightly louder. "I thought you were stronger than them."

I was giving Tarazet an ugly look. "I can to defend myself against them," I hatefully hissed at him.

"Clearly you can't!" he almost yelled. I saw that Snape was watching us out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" I yelled back, feeling my blood starting to boil.

"Fine. All I know is I'm cursing Seginus and Matar to hell when I see them, because clearly you're unable to," he spat.

The door to the hospital wing swung open again, only this time it was Dumbledore who strode in.

Tarazet leapt to his feet, his eyes nervously darting towards the Headmaster. "Good Morning, Liseli," the white-haired man greeted me. "Hello, Tarazet."

"Dumbledore," Tarazet stiffly nodded to acknowledge the Headmaster. His right hand was nervously holding his left forearm, where his Dark Mark was hidden underneath his long sleeves. "I was just about to leave, actually. It was nice seeing you, Liseli," he said stiffly, and without so much as glancing towards Snape he practically ran out of the door. Snape looked up, saw that Tarazet had left, saw Dumbledore, and also strode silently out of the room.

The Headmaster took the chair which Tarazet had previously been sitting in, and said in a conversational manner, "So how are you feeling, Liseli?"

"I'm feeling better than I was," I attempted to brush off my argument with my brother and smile cheerfully.

"That's good to hear the treatment is working," Dumbledore smiled.

I hesitated and then decided to ask my question. "Why has Snape been the one taking care of me? Why not Madame Pomfrey?"

"Severus is very talented when it comes to healing Dark Magic," Dumbledore explained.

"But why doesn't he give the potions to Pomfrey and have that be all? Why is he doing it himself?" This image of Snape-as-caretaker was clashing with my previous understanding of him.

"Severus can do the treatment the most effectively, I'm sure, and it gives him a chance to check on his patients." I gave Dumbledore a look that said "And why would he want to do that?" The Headmaster chuckled and continued, "As hard as it may be to believe, Severus does have a side which deeply cares about other people. It's a shame he tries so hard to keep anybody else from realizing that it exists." Dumbledore sighed.

We were both silent, and I supposed that he, like me, was deep in thought. I was mildly shocked, that such a side of Severus existed, partially because it actually did seem to fit, as though that had been the missing puzzle piece in how I perceived him. As if of its own volition, something that Hagrid had said in September leapt into my mind: "Snape's really not as bad as he seems, though. Even if he, well, seems to be." I was awed; it seemed as though what he said had been true.

…

A/N: A snidget is a small, magical bird. I figured wizards wouldn't say "A little birdie told me," so I changed it to "A snidget told me." Also, a big thank you to tibys, Berry64, Age-of-Orton and Mywaychan for reviewing!


	16. Out of the Hospital Wing

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Out of the Hospital Wing**

Once Dumbledore's visit was concluded, the hospital wing returned to its standard monotonous pace. Pomfrey brought me lunch shortly afterwards, and she chatted pleasantly with me, although her small talk was starting to get a bit repetitive. It's quite odd: I found myself starting to impatiently wait for Severus's evening visit, when he stopped by to bring the second dose of potion. We didn't even really talk when he visited, so I suppose I was just anxious for a change in pace?

The next day was the start of classes, and Severus informed me that I would not be teaching tomorrow. "And why is that?" I asked, annoyed and my good mood starting to sour.

"Because I say so. You're not recovered enough, yet," his eyes glittered, daring me to argue otherwise. I didn't say anything, though, and after a moment's silence he said, with no preamble, "Why was your brother mad that your oldest two brothers attacked you?"

I replied in a mildly confused tone, as though the answer was obvious, "Why wouldn't Tarazet care?"

Snape frowned, seemingly confused at my confused question. "He attacked you himself, earlier. Unless the stunning spell conjured itself?" he finished sarcastically.

I had forgotten that Severus had seen the end of our argument, and now I understood his perspective. "That's not really the same thing…" I said slowly. "Tarazet wasn't willfully trying to hurt me, or quote and quote 'put me in my proper place', like Seginus and Matar were."

"I didn't know people cast stunning spells to show their love," he said sarcastically.

I smiled but didn't laugh at his comment. "Tarazet was like a scared puppy, there. He might've bit, but he didn't really mean it," I shrugged my shoulders.

An odd look flitted across Severus's face. "You're awfully forgiving," he said in a rough voice.

"Tarazet," I hesitated, and thought of how to phrase my though. "Tarazet isn't the worst person in the world," I finished lamely. "He has his good points." Pause. "Sometimes." It was quiet for another moment, and I supposed our conversation had finished; Snape took the empty cup which had held the potion and I watched his back as he walked out of the door.

* * *

At the start of the next day I was able to hear the bustling of students in the formerly quiet hallways. To my great surprise, I started receiving "Get well soon" cards from some my students, and some of the sixth years sent me small boxes of Chocolate Frogs. I eyed these Chocolate Frogs rather suspiciously, wondering if they remembered that I had fed them cursed Chocolate Frogs back in October.

In the late afternoon, after the end of the first day of classes I had my first visitor of the day, beside Pomfrey and Severus. I smiled upon seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione walking through the door. "Hello, Professor," Hermione smiled.

"We wanted to see how you were doing," Harry said politely.

"We, uh, brought you candy," Ron finished awkwardly and held out a small bag. "A Get-Well-Soon gift, if you will."

"Thank you," I genuinely smiled as I took the small bag. "No Chocolate Frogs, I hope?" I added mischievously. "I've already received quite a few of those from other Sixth Years."

Harry laughed. "No, no Chocolate Frogs. Just some stuff from our stash of candy. It's mostly from Honey Dukes."

"Yeah, and we made sure to not put any of the stale stuff in there," Ron added cheerfully.

"Always good to hear! Speaking of--I mean absolutely unrelated to that—would you like a biscuit?" I playfully said as I held out the tray of biscuits that Hagrid had given me.

They seemed to recognize who had baked them, and jokingly came up with elaborate excuses. "No, see, I had a hippogriff for lunch, much too stuffed," Harry grinned.

"I'm sorry, I'm allergic to stale," Ron replied, also grinning.

The door to the Hospital Wing suddenly swung open, and Severus strode in, his black robes billowing behind him. The grins on Ron's and Harry's faces quickly faded, and I saw a loathing sneer start to form on the Potions Masters face upon seeing them.

"Your potion, Liseli. Potter, don't forget your detention tonight," he added without so much as looking in their direction.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied in a subtly disrespectful tone.

Snape left without a further word. I looked at Harry and said, in an impressed tone, "You've already managed to get detention?"

The messy-haired boy let out a hollow laugh. "It's not that difficult. Snape isn't exactly fair in giving out detentions. I swear, he'd give me detention for breathing too loudly. Or just breathing period."

"That's not good," I said in a concerned tone, only half paying attention.

Harry nodded, and then abruptly said, "Can I ask you something, Professor Colburn?" I replied affirmatively, and he tensely continued. "You said you were at Hogwarts at the same time as Lupin."

"Yes…" I replied slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

"Did you know my dad?" There was almost a note of hope in the orphaned boy's voice, and it pained my heart.

I hesitated, and my mind started racing as to what I could say. Harry was a nice boy, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I didn't really want to lie to him, either. "I knew of him," I finally slowly started. "He was the Gryffindor's Seeker almost every year I was there."

"But Lupin seemed to know you. So you must have seen the Marauders more than just that," Harry pressed.

I felt as though I was being backed into a wall, with nowhere to go. I struggled with my thoughts a moment longer and said slowly, "I saw James rather often, because he and Regulus fought rather often. They were both always competing for Sirius's attention—Regulus felt that James was stealing his brother away from him, and James felt that Regulus had no right to be vying for Sirius's attention. So he was always either fighting Regulus, or he was backing Sirius up in one of Sirius's fights with his brother. But, no, I didn't talk directly with him very much," I finished conclusively. I didn't want Harry to ask any more questions, for I already disliked having to remind them of my relationship with Regulus.

Harry seemed as though he was trying to mask his disappointment. I felt a twinge of sorrow at thinking that the only way Harry would ever know his father was through scattered stories from others, haphazard glimpses into James's life. The topic of conversation was gently changed away from Harry's father, and the four of us chatted a bit longer before the trio left. When they left, I was lost in my own reflections on Regulus and Sirius.

* * *

I felt my mood immediately elevate when Severus stopped by again that evening. He wordlessly handed me the potion and inspected the remaining scorch marks on my lower legs. They had almost completely disappeared, and he seemed to notice this for after a moment's thought he said, "You can go back to teaching. You don't have to stay in the Hopsital Wing anymore, but you still have to take the potion."

My thoughts were rather scattered at hearing that, but they went something like this: _Finally. The Hospital wing's mind-numbingly boring._

And then: _Oh, but now I won't see Severus twice a day anymore._

Then: _But he still has to give me the potion twice a day. So I will see him. Phew._

And then, shocked at myself: _Wait, why do I care if I see him?_

I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind and curtly thanked him. After gathering the few things I had at the Hospital Wing, I walked back to my quarters and forced myself to at least pretend that I was thinking about what my lesson plans for tomorrow would be.

* * *

My first day back teaching had been rather draining, and I now sat relaxing in the Professors' lounge, eyeing Severus over the top of my book. I had never before realized how much I saw him on any given day: at meals, in the hallways, in the Professors' lounge, and in the corridors nearby the Slytherin common room, where presumably both of our quarters were located.

"Liseli," I jumped and wondered, embarrassed, if he had realized I was looking at him. "Do you still need a cauldron and ingredients?" he asked disinterestedly, not even lifting his eyes from his book.

"Uh, yeah, I do," the words nervously spilled out.

"I keep them locked unless I'm there," he drawled. "Stop by tomorrow directly after the end of classes."

Even though I felt like he was doing a favor, I still didn't like being commanded. I pursed my lips and honestly replied, "I have a review session then."

"Review session? For what?" his eyebrows raised slightly, even though he had yet to look up from the pages of his book.

"For my first years. They feel that they forgot some of the spells over the long break, so I'm holding a review session for them," I explained.

"Is it not their own responsibility to remember the spells? And not your responsibility to dedicate more time to them than necessary?" he posed his leading questions, and seemed annoyed.

"I don't mind devoting extra time to them to help them. I mean, I'm supposed to be helping them learn, anyhow," I replied, now imitating Severus by looking intently at my own book.

As soon as I did this, though, I saw him lift his eyes and glance at me. The odd, unidentifiable expression that had flitted across his face earlier in the Hospital Wing appeared again for a second. It disappeared so quickly I almost doubted I had seen it, and then he said in an articulate but neutral voice, "I see."

We both returned to reading our books, and after a few minutes something daring within me made its move. "Severus?" I started. He didn't reply, but I noticed that his eyes had stopped flying across the page he was on. "Can I call you Sev?"

He immediately tore his black eyes from his book and started looking at me. Part of me was immediately regretting asking such a question. "Why would you do that?" he cautiously asked, his eyes still on me.

"Severus is such a long first name," I replied, an ironic smile dancing on my lips.

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I point out that Liseli is also three syllables? Lee?" he articulated the first syllable of my first name.

"No, I don't think so, Sev," I had to restrain my smile. _I must be trying to annoy him,_ I thought, only half believing myself. _That must be what possessed me to ask such a stupid question._ Still…nobody had ever called me Lee before. I quite liked the ring of it.

…

A/N: First, thank you to Adam_Copeland_Fan, XxClearSakuraxX, angelofire, Mywaychan and Pollywantcookie for reviewing! Secondly, I know it's debatable whether James Potter was a seeker or chaser, but it's simpler for him to be a seeker in my story. Thirdly, I'm actually not sure how to pronounce Liseli's name, but I've always imagined it as "lee-SEL-ee", hence why the first syllable of her name as pronounced by Snape is "Lee."


	17. The Hog's Head

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Hog's Head**

Two days later, I realized that Tarazet and I had never clarified whether we were still going to meet and have lunch, or whether his visit at the hospital wing had counted as the visit instead. So, at the start of lunch, I grudgingly walked to The Hog's Head to check if we were supposed to meet. When I walked into the door a strong musty smell, combined with the smell of livestock? greeted my nostrils. The room was dark and dreary, and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim lights. About half of the battered wooden tables had someone, or something, sitting at them. The bartender was running a filthy rag over a filthy mug and watching me. My eyes scanned the room and I saw my brother's sickly frame in a chair by the corner. He had casually stretched his long, bony legs out in front of him and actually looked fairly relaxed. For a split second I saw Tarazet the Hogwarts student, a young, rather handsome boy, and not Tarazet the convicted criminal, whose sunken eyes had a hollow look to them.

I walked to the corner and plopped myself down in the creaky wooden chair opposite him. "That's good to see you're out of the hospital wing," he said as way of greeting. "I thought I might be waiting for nothing."

"No, I was released a couple of days ago," I sighed. The bartender, a man with a long grey beard, made his way to our table and gruffly took our orders. He returned a minute later and roughly placed two mismatching cups in front of us, informing us that our food would be ready shortly.

"I'm surprised you don't have classes at this time," Tarazet stated in a conversational tone while suspiciously regarding the cleanliness of the mug in front of him.

"Professors get free periods sometimes. This week, mine's directly after lunch," I explained while deciding that it would probably be for the best if I didn't so much as glance at my filthy glass before drinking from it.

"By the way," it looked as though Tarazet was struggling to release the words from his lips, "I'm sorry about—about yelling at you about your friends." The words came out jerkily and he looked rather embarrassed. "I just—I just—you can do so much better, Liseli," he finished, trying to constrain his frustration.

"We'll have to agree to disagree," I said through pursed lips. I didn't feel like getting into another argument, especially in such a public place. He opened his mouth suddenly to reply, but snapped it shut again without saying another word. It seemed that he also wanted to avoid an argument.

"So how's teaching been going?" he asked in a forced conversational tone. "My little sister the professor," he added and here there was a hint of a genuine smile on his thin lips.

"It's been going pretty well," I replied cheerfully. "I still don't know all of the students' names. I mean, you know me; I'm so bad with names."

He let out a tiny laugh. "Yes, I remember. Deneb told me that you still don't know his wife's name. Well, I'm sure you're well on your way to being the best professor at Hogwarts. I don't think your Slytherin ambition would let you settle for anything else; you always want to prove yourself to be the best," he grinned like a proud parent, not that either of my parents had ever been proud of me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh and replied, "So what about you? How has---well, how has whatever you've been doing going? What have you been doing?"

The chestnut-haired man creased his brow. "I haven't been doing much. I've been looking for a job but nobody really wants to hire. Well, nobody really wants to hire someone like me. Especially in this climate." I understood the translation: Nobody wants to hire an ex-Azkaban prisoner that helped Death Eaters when the Dark Lord is on the rise and the Ministry is trying to crack down on Death Eater activity.

I nodded. "Where have you been living?" I asked, wondering how he could afford somewhere if he had no income.

"I'm staying at Mother and Father's house," he replied, giving his mug another dubious glance before taking a sip.

"I thought they left the house to Deneb in their will," I said with a confused look on my face.

He pursed his lips. "They did. Deneb's letting me stay there." It seemed as though he wanted to add something else, but at this point the bartender arrived with our food: two greasy-looking sandwiches. Tarazet started talking again, anyway, though. "Liseli, why didn't you go to Mother's and Father's funeral?" he asked, and there was a pained note in his voice.

I frowned in thinking how to phrase my motives and finally said in an exasperated voice, "Tarazet, you know I was never exactly close to Mother and Father."

He pursed his lips and said in a strained voice. "But, I mean, they're your parents. They fed and clothed you and provided a roof over your head for 17 years."

"So?" I said bitterly and my conscience felt a twinge of pain at my heartlessness. "I was living at Hogwarts for six of those years, anyway."

"You're still mad at them? I mean, I know they were horrible to you, but you still haven't made peace with Mother and Father?" My brother sounded disbelieving. My conscience twinged again and I couldn't help but think _Damn you, Tarazet._ "And I mean they died so close together, too. Father dying of a broken heart. It's unbelievable."

"Is that what Deneb told you?" I said bitterly, glad to have something to seize upon that wouldn't cause my conscience to react. "To me it seemed more like Mother had placed some curse so that Father would die within a week of her death."

"That's not a very nice thing to say. Even if it's probably true," he started and then released a sigh. "I'm just saying that it's sad that out of their five children, only one went to their funeral."

"It's not my fault that three of their children were in Azkaban," I said bitterly, trying to switch the blame off of me. "Let's switch the topic of conversation."

Tarazet pursed his lips. "Fine." I could tell he still wanted to push the topic, but he dropped it. "So how have you been in the last fifteen years?" He still sounded annoyed.

"I've been good. I spent most of those years as a tutor," I took to using a conversational tone again. "I tutored a Goyle last summer," I added, knowing that would interest him.

My brother's face brightened. "Goyle? You know we're related to them."

"I'm aware," I said coolly, talking a bite of my sandwich. "Not that they'll ever admit that."

Tarazet looked annoyed. "They ought to. We're pure-bloods like them."

I thought he might continue going on that delusional tangent, to my annoyance, so I abruptly asked "So what's been new with you in the last fifteen years?"

His eyes narrowed. "Excluding the last few months, absolutely nothing. I've been reliving my worst memories for the vast majority of that time." I felt a twinge of guilt that he was taking my question seriously and reflecting on his experience in Azkaban. "You spend your entire time recalling everything that's ever gone wrong in your life, and you start to think that the world is such a horrible place maybe you don't want to ever leave your cell. But that's theoretical of course. The world outside of your cell seems like a construct, a delusion. It's as if there are a thousand bars surrounding your cell, and behind those thousand bars no world exists. The thousand bars are the only world that exists," he finished bitterly. Clearly he had given it some thought. I supposed he had had nothing else to do for those fifteen years.

"I didn't mean to—" I lamely started.

His light blue eyes were glued to mine. "It's fine," he interrupted, and he returned his attention to his sandwich. After that we both made an effort to stay on harmless topics of conversation—Quidditch, interesting books, the newest stores in Diagon Alley, etc. "We should make this a weekly thing," Tarazet casually threw out when I left to return to Hogwarts. I made a noncommittal noise, my worry that he might mention the last time we saw each other fifteen years fading but still existent.

* * *

After the end of my last class of the day, I walked to the potions dungeon to finally obtain the ingredients for the potion that I had wanted to make almost a week ago. Inexplicably, I started to become anxious and nervous, but I chalked it up to being afraid of making a fool of myself while trying to make the potion. Especially in front of the Potions Master.

"Hello, Sev," I greeted him, nervous about his reaction to me using a nickname. Come to think of it, I wasn't even quite sure why I was using a nickname.

He looked up, but didn't say anything about my choice of name. "The ingredients and cauldron are there," he gestured vaguely towards one of the walls of the room. "It's a fast potion, so you unless you particularly don't want to stay in the dungeons, it'd be more efficient to stay here and make it," and with that he returned to the papers on his desk in front of him.

I took out the ingredients I needed and dragged the cauldron a bit away from the wall, unnaturally aware of every loud noise I was making in the silent stone room. I felt rather like a student as I slowly started making the potion, thinking that now would be a bad time for my little potion skill to suddenly fail me. I don't know why, but I kept glancing at Severus's face. He was not directly in front of me, nor looking in my direction, but was instead solidly focused on the paper he was reading. He still had the greasy hair, the hook nose, and the yellow teeth, but I now found something almost hypnotizing about his face. I had to keep mentally slapping myself to focus my attention back on the brewing potion in front of me. I really had no clue what was coming over me, and once my inattention even almost resulted in the small cauldron boiling over.

I spent my dinner talking solely with Professor Sprout, but for some reason I continued frequently glancing at Severus out of the corner of my eye. I walked back to my quarters from dinner, wondering at my own behavior. Why was I acting so bizarrely? I paced the small dimensions of my room, tossing the question over and over in my head, trying unsuccessfully to analyze it from different directions to obtain an answer.

_Sev is nice, yes, but he also has plenty of flaws. Why am I acting so…so…almost obsessed with him?_ I thought to myself. My mind drifted to his hospital visits, and to all of his helpful acts: from helping me recover from the curse, to recommending a better Defense Against the Dark Arts book, to brewing me the antidote for when I tested my students with cursed Chocolate Frogs, to helping me deal with my troublesome brothers. Even if he was snarky sometimes, he clearly respected me, which was a lot more than a lot pureblood men. I heard a sigh issue from my mouth, and almost felt a longing pang in my heart. _What am I doing?_ _I feel like I'm losing my mind, _I thought to myself, shocked. _I mean, the last time I acted anything like this is when I was interested in Regulus._

_When I was interested in…_

_When I was…_

The epiphany struck me like a lightning bolt and I gasped aloud in horror.

_Oh dear Merlin, I'm falling in love with Severus Snape. _

…

A/N: First off, I have to tell you that I'm leaving on a ten day trip today. I don't know if I'm going to have internet access or not, so this may be the last update for ten days. If it is, I'm terribly sorry, but I'll update as soon as I get back.

For a comment on this chapter itself, I just want to say: don't worry, this isn't suddenly going to become some really fluffy romance with everybody out of character just because Liseli's falling for Snape. On to more important things, I want to say thank you so much to Mywaychan, argyle owl, PollyWantCookie, Berry64, XxClearSakuraxX, tibys, jen-pongo, and angelofire for reviewing.

Disclaimer: The second to last line of Tarazet's description of Azkaban is a paraphrasing of a line (which for some reason I have stuck in my head) from Rilke's poem "Der Panther." The actual line (well, one translation of the actual line) is: "To him, it is as if there are a thousand bars/And behind a thousand bars no world."


	18. Oakwood Memorial Park

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Oakwood Memorial Park**

_No, I can't be in love with Severus, _I thought to myself, and I started frantically pacing my room. _Not Severus. Severus the condescending git, Severus who bullies students for no reason, _I tried to convince myself that I did not like that man, but part of my mind unwillingly added, _Severus who has a good side, but just doesn't broadcast it._ I heard a knock at my door and, wondering who it was, swung the painting open. I just about jumped through the roof when I saw who was standing there. Almost as if I had been thinking too loudly, there stood Severus Snape. "H-Hello!" I nervously exclaimed, my voice about an octave higher than normal.

Either he didn't notice my odd behavior, or he pretended not to notice. He held out a cup filled with a transparent green liquid and said "I brought your potion."

"Oh, uh, thank you," the words stumbled out of my mouth. Right, he was still giving me the potion twice a day. That's why he was here. Not because my thoughts had been too loud. Duh.

"I think that his may be able to be the last dose," he drawled while I drank the potion. "I'd have to inspect the scorch marks." I sat down, and he pulled my robes up to just below my knee, casting some sort of identification spell where my skin had been burned. "There aren't any marks left. Congratulations, you're healed," he said in his standard mildly sarcastic voice.

He started leaving, when I suddenly blurt out "Thank you! For—for everything I mean."

Sev paused, frowned slightly, and then with a neutral sound of acknowledgment nodded his head very slightly. He left without saying anything further, and I took to pacing my room again, determined that I wouldn't do something as foolish as letting him discover my feelings for him—I knew he wouldn't reciprocate them.

* * *

The rest of the first week passed smoothly, excluding my heart leaping into my esophagus every time I saw Severus. The Saturday at the end of said week was a cold, grey, dreary day, and I spent most of my morning looking distractedly out the window. With the bleak view and lack of sunlight it almost seemed as though a grey cloak had been thrown across the landscape. Almost as though that grey clock consisted of Dementors, my mind started drifting to my less pleasant memories and my regrets. One of the most recent ones was only a few days ago. Tarazet's disbelieving voice as he said "You still haven't made peace with Mother and Father?" had stuck with me. I had intentionally decided to not go to their funeral. I had not wanted to see all of their precious pureblood friends giving long speeches about what wonderful people my parents were. I had been happy to have not seen Mother and Father for quite a length of time prior to their deaths, and I had seen no reason to break that streak.

But Tarazet's words had struck a chord in my conscience. _Damn it, Tarazet_, I thought again, _Why do you always have to make me feel responsible for doing the right thing? _There were many times when we disagreed what the right thing was, but now was one of the times when I felt myself grudgingly in agreement with him. I continued to stare gloomily out the window, before it suddenly struck me what I could do. After a moment of indecisiveness, I stood up from my seat and started slowly walking. I had just reached the main entrance to Hogwarts when I heard Severus's familiar voice say in a slightly hostile tone, "Where are you going, Liseli?"

"What's it to you?" I asked suspiciously, my tone still coming through as slightly depressed.

"You think it's wise to leave Hogwarts by yourself when you were just attacked by your two older brothers?" He almost said it as though he doubted my decision making skills.

"Hogwarts is not a prison," I said bitterly, "I can leave any time I like."

He pursed his lips before replying "Fine. I'm coming with you."

"What, you don't think I can defend myself?" I said, my eyes flashing threateningly.

"I think you can defend yourself fine," he replied coolly. "But two wands are always better than one."

I relented. "Fine."

We started to walk towards the Forbidden Forest, where the Hogwarts' anti-apparition charm ended. "So where are we going?" Severus asked in a completely neutral tone, as though it was all equal to him.

"I'm going to make peace with my parents," I replied shortly.

"Oh? Am I intruding on a family affair?" He replied ironically, clearly not intending to change his plan of accompanying me.

"They're both dead, so not particularly," I articulated lightly. "If they weren't dead I doubt I'd be able to make peace with them."

After apparating we appeared on a dirt path next to a poorly paved road. The area was deserted, and across the road there was a large graveyard encircled with a rusty black fence. I had never visited my parents' graves before, but I knew they were buried in this cemetery, the same one my grandparents were buried in. It was about a dozen kilometers from our house when I was growing up, and we had visited it as a family multiple times.

At the entrance there was a very small brick building, which we walked into, and inside that building was a single long counter. A man in Muggle clothes (black slacks, a black jacket and a white button-down shirt) had his feet up on the counter and was casually reading a magazine. Upon seeing us he abruptly took his feet off the counter, threw down the magazine and tried to say in a well-composed, respectful voice, "Good day, and welcome to Oakwood Memorial Park. How may I help you?"

"Could you tell me where Braxton and Wilhelmina Colburn are buried?" I asked, torn whether to be amused or annoyed at his unprofessional behavior.

"Yes ma'am," the Muggle replied, and started flipping through a stack of notecards in front of him. "I'll escort you. Nice, uh, dress," he added, eyeing Severus's robes. The wizard narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. After a short walk, the Muggle stated "Here they are," gestured to two headstones, and left.

"I didn't know your parents were Muggles," Severus said in a mildly surprised tone.

"They're not," I snapped, suddenly remembering that he was a pureblood.

"Nothing wrong with Muggle parents," he replied smoothly, and I felt a rush of relief, my heart softening towards the man standing next to me. Finally, somebody with their head screwed on right.

"They're purebloods, but they couldn't afford to be buried in an all-wizard cemetery," I stated gently. I knelt and brushed the frost off one of the headstone until I could see the words "Wilhelmina Hitchens Colburn" clearly.

I sighed. My mother. I had always hated her. She was traditional, very traditional. She thought that the life purpose of girls (she always called them that, they were never women) was to give birth to and raise large numbers of pureblood children. Girls themselves were useless; they didn't exist outside of their relationships to others. Growing up, she had treated me as such, only with an extra dose of resentment. She had given birth to four boys, boys who would become men and be successful. Then I had come along and broken her streak of contributing to the world, as she saw it.

As I sat kneeling on the cold packed dirt in front of her grave marker, I searched my mind for her good attributes. I felt like I was looking at a blank slate, where under "Good attributes" there was had let me go outside and play with my brothers sometimes, at least. Tarazet always had to argue with her on my behalf, but she had relented a fair number of times. To someone as traditional as her, who believed that girls ought to sit still and do quiet activities while looking pretty, that must have been quite difficult. I was still bitter about her expectations that I ought to dedicate my whole life to marriage and child raising, though. I tried to think of some positive attribute, some justification on her part that might make her sentiments and actions forgivable, but the only explanation that came to mind was "It's not her fault; she was raised that way. She thought she was following the best course of action, the only course of action." I silently thought this explanation to myself, and decided it would be the closest I could come to reaching a peace with her.

I turned my attention to my father's headstone. I didn't hate him quite as much as my mother, simply because he hadn't been around as much when I was growing up. My mother had raised us full time (because of course women weren't supposed to have jobs), while my father spent most of his time at work. He had shared my mother's traditional beliefs, combined with a favoritism of the older children. Seginus, a first-born son like himself, was by far his favorite. Me, the youngest and a girl, was by far his least favorite. To him, just as to my mother, I was always just a disappointment, someone who would never be good enough for them, no matter what I did.

As I was thinking these thoughts, I noticed a few white specks floating in front of me. I looked up into the dark grey clouds overhead and saw more pieces of snow falling endlessly from the heavens. Behind me, Sev give a slight shiver from the cold, but he didn't say anything. I searched my mind for a long time for my father's positive attributes but, like my mother, I was unable to think of any through the haze of bitterness I felt towards him. Finally I settled on the same pardon I had given my mother: it wasn't his fault, he was just raised that way. That explanation seemed hollow to me, but it was the only one I could find.

It was still snowing by the time I finished my thoughts, and now the grey landscape was covered with a silent, clean blanket of white. I stood up and turned around to see Sev still there, his black hair speckled with small white pieces of snow. "Are you done making peace with them?" he said politely.

"Closest I'm going to get," I said softly and shrugged my shoulders. With another _crack!_ we were back at the boundary of the Forbidden Forest. After a moment of walking, I decided to express one of my thoughts. "I wonder—" I started, but cut myself off.

After a moment, in which I didn't continue my thought, Severus replied "Wonder what?"

I struggled with how to phrase my thoughts, before I continued, "I wonder how much we're responsible for our actions."

"What do you mean?" he turned and looked at me with a wondering look on his face.

"I wonder how much we're a product of our environment, and how much we're a product of—of something else. I don't know what." I said, my mind still drifting back to my parents.

Sev didn't say anything, and there was no sound except the sound of our footsteps. I almost wondered if he had actually heard me, but when we had almost reached the front of Hogwarts he opened his mouth and thoughtfully replied: "I don't know."

* * *

That afternoon I decided to pay my first visit to Hagrid's hut in a while. I went a bit earlier in the day than I normally did, though, and I was surprised to see Hagrid standing out front with a flock of creatures that looked like the winged skeletons of horses. Upon approaching closer, it seemed as though he was feeding them with Harry's help, while Ron and Hermione stood nearby with their hands in their pockets.

"Hullo, Hagrid," I greeted the immense man. "Need any help?"

He looked at me with slightly raised eyebrows and replied, "Sure, if you can."

" 'Course I'll help," I replied, grabbing a slab of meat and holding it up to the black, horse-like creature's mouth. "Funny looking animal," I said conversationally to Ron and Hermione who were looking somewhat bored.

"I'm sure they are," Hermione replied lightly.

"We can't see them," Ron blurted out.

I started laughing. "What do you mean you can't see them? They're standing there, clear as day."

"Not everybody can see Thestrals," Hagrid shrugged his shoulders.

My mouth silently made the shape of an "O." I had read about Thestrals, even if I had never seen them before, and I knew that only those who had seen somebody die could see them. My mind raced to come up with an explanation to tell them for why I could see Thestrals. "They pull the carriages up to Hogwarts, don't they?" I started in a would-be conversational tone.

"They sure do," Hagrid replied, heartily patting the one he was currently feeding.

"I remember hearing that, but I couldn't see them when I was a student," I started, as the Thestral in front of me grabbed the piece of meat I was holding and noisily started munching. "My mother only died a few years ago."

"I'm sorry," Hagrid gave me a sorrowful look.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's unfortunate but not completely unexpected. Dragon Pox has fairly high mortality rates." Judging by all of their reactions, they seemed to have bought my implied explanation that it was my mother I had seen pass away. Slightly more relaxed, I continued feeding the Thestrals.

"Not many people can see Thestrals while they're at Hogwarts," Harry quietly contributed his first words to the conversation, as he pet one such creature. The grey blanket I had noticed over the land earlier today, the one which seemed to have an effect equal to that of Dementors' presences, seemed to have returned, and our conversation quietly withered into a depressed silence.

* * *

The school week started again, and with it the older students handed in the five page essays I had assigned them earlier. _If only I could give them long assignments without having to _grade_ them all_, I thought with a sigh as I took a seat in the professors' lounge. Sev was already in the room and he, likewise, had a large stack of essays by him. He was hunched over the desk and his hook nose was practically touching the paper in front of him. I had to keep myself from laughing when I noticed the size difference between the bottle of red ink I had brought with me and that which he had by his side; his must have been more than five times larger than mine and it was, additionally, practically empty. _Somehow I have a feeling he didn't use all of that ink for complimenting the students' writing style, _I thought as I made my first swipe of red on the student's essay in front of me."So how have classes been?" I ventured. He didn't respond to my brave attempt at a conversation so I added, "Sev?"

He jerked his head in my direction. "What? These students are such imbeciles. They wouldn't know the difference between a Babbling Brew and a Confounding Concoction if they had the list of ingredients in front of them," he mumbled, writing a comment on the student's essay in front of him.

"So do are we grading different imbeciles or the same imbeciles? Because one of my students just spent a page describing a stunning spell and then listed the incantation as _Protego_," I gave him an amused smile. All of his attention seemed to be focused on the potions essay in front of him, though, for he didn't reply, which only left me the option of silently continuing grading. I spent the next two hour hacking my way through the forest of poorly written and mediocre essays, with the occasional clearing of a well-written one. It seemed as though most of my students hadn't taken the essay seriously, which was rather frustrating, and I found that I completely drained my bottle of red ink. I glanced up at Severus, who had refilled his monstrously large bottle of red ink since I had taken a seat, and noticed that he seemed to be near the end of the stack of his essays. "I suppose I can't borrow any of your ink, because you're going to need it all for the last few papers?" I asked with a hint of playful sarcasm.

He looked up from the desk and replied in a serious tone of voice, "Yes. Exactly."

_Is that supposed to be so serious that it's sarcastic?_ I wondered over his inscrutable sentences and with a sigh decided it'd be simpler to just fetch more red ink from my quarters. On an impulse I also grabbed a deck of cards, with the vague notion that maybe I'd ask him if he wanted to play a round of cards. After another half hour I finally acted on the impulse and blurt out in a would-be casual tone, "I was planning to take a little break and play a game of Exploding Snap. Do you want to join?"

For a moment he didn't respond, but instead muttered something to himself as he wrote a long-winded comment on another student's paper. "I would prefer to finish grading these." Without looking up, he gestured towards the remaining stack of papers.

"Suit yourself." I didn't actually like Exploding Snap enough to play with the cards solo, but my stubbornness insisted that I followed through on my previous implication that I was going to play whether he did or not. So, I took out the deck of cards and carefully started forming a pyramid out of them.

"You're doing that here?" Sev momentarily glanced up.

"Yup," I replied, slowly building the card pyramid higher and higher. I seemed to be having an amazing run of luck, for none of the cards had yet exploded and collapsed the pyramid. It was reaching over two feet tall, now, and Sev was continuously watching the cards; he seemed to be amazed as I was that no card had yet exploded. I carefully took two more cards and started to gently set their edges against each other on top of the pyramid. Suddenly, though, there was a pain in my left arm and my arm gave an involuntary jerk, one which was just enough to completely collapse the card tower. "Dang," I unenthusiastically exclaimed.

I noticed that Sev's eyes were not on the remains of the pyramid, nor back on the paper in front of him, but instead firmly resting on my left arm. In a mock innocent voice he asked, "Does your right arm also have random spasms in the evening or is it just your left?"

I frowned and decided to focus my attention on cleaning up the mess of cards in front of me. "That was an accident. I'm amazed my reflexes were good enough to get it that tall in the first place."

"Well?" he asked in the same generic cool tone of voice he often used.

"'Well' what?" I continued organizing the fallen cards.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" His hand still held the red grading quill, but not a speck of his attention was focused on the essay in front of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I attempted to say with a steady voice. He gave me a disbelieving look, his eyes intently focused on my face. I swear he wasn't even blinking, and he made no movement to tear his scrutinizing gaze away. The burning feeling on my left forearm was steadily increasing, though, and for lack of a more subtle method of leaving I blurt out, "I don't have to work in such a hostile environment." With a last angry glare at him, I raced from the room.

…

A/N: Couple of things. First, the discrepancy between Liseli saying she hadn't seen her parents for a long time before they died, and her implying that she saw her mother die is intentional.

Secondly, I rewrote the prologue again. The gist is the same, so you don't have to re-read it if you don't want to, but this chapter is mentioned in it.

Thirdly, thanks so much to xXClearSakuraxX, Mywaychan, PollyWantCookie, argyle owl, and Leslie for reviewing!


	19. The London Underground

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The London Underground**

The first thing I thought when I next woke up was that I was far too disoriented to simply be waking up from a night's sleep. The searing pain in my chest was also a bit of a tip off. A breath in and fire engulfed my lungs. A breath out and it felt as if a dragon had taken residence inside my ribcage. I didn't try to open my eyes, instead resting in the blackness and trying desperately to recall the last thing I could remember. My mind was too disconcerted to concentrate, though, and instead I tried to figure out where I was. Wherever I was, I was lying on something soft and relatively squishy, a bed I would be willing to bet. I felt the blanket beneath my fingertips and decided that even if I was injured, I couldn't be in Hogwart's hospital wing, because their sheets were much more scratchy and rough. Could I be in St. Mungo's? No, it would be nosier then, with the sounds of other patients and bustling healers. It was very quiet in this room, wherever I was, and the only thing I could hear was far off tinkling noises.

I slowly opened my eyes, still trying to ignore the burning pain in my chest. I was lying flat on my back and the first thing I noticed was that the ceiling consisted of the large cinder blocks that only existed in the dungeons. From what I could see, the room looked extraordinarily like my quarters, except the belongings were different than mine and the door was on the opposite side. The small rustling sounds became louder and I heard someone walking into the room I was in. A voice with a hint of concern in it asked, "Are you awake?"

"What happened?" I croaked out, raising my head slightly so I could see Severus, the person who was talking to me. A rather blood-soaked towel was resting on my chest where the searing pain seemed to be originating from, and my robes appeared to be heavily blood-stained.

He returned to a brisk, business-like tone, "Carrow was aiming at an Auror but that wizard dodged the curse, so it hit you instead. Knocked you out cold, too." There was a moment of silence while I tried to regain my senses and my memory. I heard him walk to another part of the room, and soon there were more of the soft tinkling noises I had heard earlier. Was it glass brushing glass? My ears weren't well trained enough to identify the sound. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke again, in an almost conversational tone, "How long have you been a Death Eater?"

I felt my blood freeze, while my mind immediately started racing. "Who have you told?" I whispered in a horrified tone. I did not want him to know that I was a Death Eater, even if he was also one. I did not want anybody to know I was a Death Eather; my own Death Eater brothers did not even know. I saw every positive image anybody had ever formed of me going up in flames. I saw the end of my career, not only at Hogwarts, but just about everywhere. I was so entirely focused on what to do that I barely felt my wound from the curse.

"Why would I tell anybody?" was his response. I calmed slightly, but I was still shaking from nervousness and shock. I had tried so hard to build up a certain positive image of myself and, now, to be caught was almost unbearable.

I closed my eyes again and searched my memory. Slowly that evening's events came back to me:

I was building a card pyramid in the teacher's lounge when I felt the sharp pain in my left arm characteristic of the Dark Mark burning. After trying to leave without Sev suspecting anything, I ran towards the Forbidden Forest, where I changed into my Death Eater robes and touched my mark to apparate. I reappeared in a dark alley in some city, where other Death Eaters from my roughly ten person regiment were already standing. I did not know the name, nor the face of the commander of our regiment; I recognized his short, stocky figure only by the different cut of his robes. Energetically, he started giving orders and describing our mission to us: we were going to attack one part of the London Underground, and it was probably going to be an easy mission, he informed us, because it was a place where there was unlikely to be any wizards.

We strode down the stairs, and the head of our regiment yelled with an almost insane cackle, "Listen up, Muggles!" The Muggles standing nearby turned and gave all of us very confused looks. "Once the Dark Lord rises, you're going to be our slaves, our play toys, our target practice! So we thought we'd get a bit of practice now. And just to kill two snidgets with one Bludger, we thought we'd start to disable your pathetic method of transportation—you won't need it for much longer."

It was clear the Muggles hadn't understood most of what he had said, but they had clearly understood that it was threatening. The Muggles almost looked like confused, uncomprehending animals. One man yelled, "Freaks!" and his lone word echoed in the tunnel.

"You dare to call us the freaks, Muggle?" the head of our regiment said in a deadly tone, before whipping out his wand and adding "_Levicorpus!_" With a yelp the Muggle was suddenly hanging upside down in the air, almost as if an invisible hand was holding him by the ankle. He dropped to the ground again in a crumpled pile, before a Cruciatus curse elicited another reaction from him. "Well, what are you doing?" our leader yelled behind to us. "Go on, attack!"

We separated and I took to attacking the walls of the tunnel, figuring that would keep their method of transportation from working. I didn't like attacking Muggles, and I was happy to have an excuse to do something else. General bedlam ruled for what must have been ten minutes, with the Death Eaters in complete control, and me trying to ignore the Muggles' screams. Suddenly, though, there were yells from other Death Eaters, and other robed figures started appearing—Aurors. One witch started sending curses towards me, and together with another masked Death Eater we responded in kind. Even with the two of us, though, it was almost an even match. Finally, the other Death Eater disarmed and immobilized her. She was soon screaming from the Cruciatus curse, while I turned my attention back to the tunnel. I was noticing that it looked like another regiment of Death Eaters had been called as back-up, when the Death Eater who was next to me turned and said mock politely "Would you like a turn?"

"What?" I said, before I realized he meant a turn of using the Cruciatus curse on the disarmed Auror in front of us. "Oh, no, I'm good," I quickly replied, glad that the mask hid my unenthusiastic facial expression.

"You have a chance to cause this scum of the earth to pay, and you won't take it? Too weak, too afraid?" the other Death Eater was quickly becoming angry. "Almost sounds like you have Muggle blood. Maybe I ought to report you to the commander, huh?"

Behind my mask I pursed my lips and curtly replied, "Of course not, I just thought I'd let you have the opportunity. I'd love to." I was lying through my teeth, but I had no choice. "_Crucio_," I said, and with that the witch in front of me started screaming again. But now the ratio of Death Eaters to Aurors had changed again—the Order of the Phoenix had appeared, recognizable by their lack of a distinct uniform. "I'm going to take over damaging the tunnel again," I said, leaving the witch in front of us to the mercy of the other Death Eater as I ran a bit further down to where the tunnel was still in near perfect condition. As soon as I stopped, though, I felt something grab my robe. I jumped, startled, and saw a young Muggle woman holding on to the bottom of my robe with both hands. She was bleeding severely from many deep gashes, and it was clear she was in a great amount of pain.

"Please…" she was pleading, and I stood glued to the spot, horrified at her wounds and unsure what to do. "Please…help me…have mercy…" Judging by the amount of blood she was losing, it was clear she wasn't long for this world. By the time the battle ended, she would have already slowly bled to death or be too close to bleeding to death to be saved.

After a moment's hesitation I pointed my wand at her and whispered "_Avada Kedavra_." With a rush of green light her suffering was over. I looked at her still form and vaguely wondered what she had meant by "mercy." What mercy ever meant.

Looking around the tunnel, I noticed that it had become even more crowded with wizards and witches, only this time it was another reinforcement of Death Eaters. I was surprised that the Inner Circle would be summoned for such a small mission, but I supposed it was because the Order of the Phoenix was present. With so many people crammed into such a small space, complete chaos was ruling. It looked as though any deflected spells would be just as likely to hit a Muggle as an Auror as a Death Eater. I attempted to ignore the battles raging around me, but then I heard a voice that I recognized, one that stopped me in my tracks —Severus's. I couldn't hear the words over all of the echoing yells and screams, but I recognized the timbre and my eyes locked onto the masked figure which was him. I kept attacking the tunnel, but I also kept one eye on him the entire time, glad at his close proximity to me. He was battling an Auror, and further away, but in a clear line, there was another Death Eater-Auror pair. As I was watching them, this other Death Eater cast a curse, which the Auror dodged. The curse kept going in a straight line, though, and with Severus's back to it he couldn't see that it was coming towards him. Almost panicked, my feet ran in his direction of their own volition, and without a thought, I was standing in the line of the curse. It felt as though a Bludger had hit me full force, and I could feel myself falling backwards. I couldn't remember anything else.

"What happened after I blacked out?" I asked Severus, after what must have been a very long silence while I was going through my memories.

"The battle went steadily downhill as more Aurors started showing up. Eventually we were ordered to retreat and since I was nearby your body—or, I should say, some Death Eater's body, since I didn't know it was you—I grabbed onto it before Apparating away," he briefly summarized.

I nodded and was seized by a sudden fit of coughing; the pain intensified "So this is mine?" I gestured towards my bloodied robes.

"The towel is mine," he articulated almost sarcastically. "But, yes, the blood is all yours. I used a spell to try and cause the wound to coagulate but the curse was powerful enough that all it did was slow the blood flow. I'm brewing a blood-replenishing potion right now," he gestured with his head towards a part of the room I couldn't see.

"Where am I?" I asked, feeling almost childish that I had so many questions.

"You happen to be in my quarters. Your portrait wouldn't let me in and I didn't think it would be a good idea for Madame Pomfrey to see you like this," he drawled. I nodded again and closed my eyes. I heard the sound of footsteps and then the tinkling of moving glass. A moment later Sev was standing over me, holding a beaker filled with a bright red liquid. I drank the bitter-sweet potion, and closed my eyes again, feeling rather fatigued. "Liseli," he started in an almost hesitating tone of voice. "Why are you a Death Eater?"

I was struck speechless by his question. "What—what do you mean?" I said, as though there was something I could fail to understand in his simple words.

He was looking at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Most Death Eaters either enjoy causing pain and seeing others in pain, or they're fanatical about pureblood supremacy. You…you don't strike me as being either."

I was still stunned at his question, and my mouth hung limply open, unsure how to respond. Part of me didn't want to respond at all, feeling that his question was far too personal. Finally after a long debate with myself, I asked him a question myself, bitterness slowly seeping into my voice. "Do you know what it feels like to never be good enough?"

"Quite," he replied, steadily holding my gaze.

"I was never good enough. Either because I was a girl, or because I was the youngest sibling, or because my family wasn't the type of proper wealthy Pureblood family that Slytherin mostly consisted of. I thought—I thought joining would help me become powerful, either as an individual or as being a part of the whole," I replied, almost embarrassed at the logic my seventeen year-old self had used when deciding to join. "What about you?"

He seemed startled that I was asking him his own question. "I liked Dark Magic," he said shortly, after a few moments of not replying. His rather succinct response surprised me, and I quickly reflected on all of the complaints I had ever heard from students against him; none of them had ever complained that he discriminated against Muggle-born students. _How ironic_, I thought, _Neither of us are pureblood elitists, yet we're both Death Eaters._

_

* * *

_

I guess I fell asleep again because the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to the faint rustling sounds of someone moving around. Severus strode into my line of vision and I noticed he was now wearing his normal black robes as opposed to his Death Eater robes, (which were also black, but a different style). "Are you awake?" he drawled while buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, a safeguard against them rolling up and showing his Dark Mark.

"Yes," I replied, struggling to sit up, and desperately ignoring the searing pain ripping through my chest. Sev told me to save my energy, and with a slight frown I laid back down, hating myself for being weak. At least I had stopped bleeding, although my robes were still saturated with now-dry blood; the smell was enough to make me sick.

"I'll send for a House Elf to bring you breakfast," he replied distractedly as he walked towards the door.

"Wait!" I blurt out suddenly. "You're—you're not going to tell anybody I'm a Death Eater, are you, Sev?"

"Of course not, Liseli," he replied in a tone that made it seem that clearly he thought his course of action was obvious.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The House Elf that appeared to bring me food was rather oddly dressed. For one thing, it was wearing clothes, which in itself was odd. I suspiciously regarded its long neon yellow top, one yellow mustard sock, and one burgundy sock, and wondered if it was actually from the kitchens. It informed that it did work for Hogwarts and that its name was Dobby, before disappearing to bring me breakfast.

After what seemed like quite some time, the painting to the room opened again and Severus strolled in. "I informed them that the curse your brothers used on you has relapsed, and that's why you weren't at breakfast," he explained without an introduction. "Do you still have your wand?" I reached in my pocket, and took out my wand, wandering why he was asking. He touched the tip of his wand to the tip of my mine and said "_Evincious." _The wand became warm between my fingertips. "Pomfrey insisted that if you weren't staying at the hospital wing you be able to contact someone if your condition suddenly deteriorates." It sounded as though he did not think very much of Pomfrey.

"And how will this incantation help?" I doubtfully wondered aloud.

He seemed annoyed at having to explain. "If you say the incantation my wand will direct me towards you. Oh, and your owl delivered this," he finished and threw a small scrap of parchment at me.

I unrolled it and held it before my eyes. It was written in very shaky hand writing, with many of the letters misformed.

_I know I said maybe we could do lunch again this week, but I'm not feeling well enough to leave the house._

_Sorry,_

_Tarazet_

I stopped thinking about what Sev had said, and concentrated my attention on the letter. Clearly, something was wrong. Tarazet was not the type to be a drama queen over an injury, nor was he the type to create excuses and lie to me. Therefore, either something was keeping him from coming to Hogsmeade that he was unable to admit, or he actually was too unwell to leave the house. I didn't write anything back, but his letter stayed on my mind for a long while.

…

A/N: So Liseli being a Death Eater isn't something that I decided on just now; I've known it since the beginning of the story, and I've been attempting to drop hints along the way (she refers to Voldemort as 'The Dark Lord', there was another time she felt a pain in her arm and had to suddenly leave, etc.) The problem with posting your first draft of a story on , though, is that it means when I realize I should have dropped more hints, I can't change the earlier chapters (or at least not drastically.) So, my apologies for that.

On a different note, thanks a lot to Mywaychan, tibys, angelofire, Leslie, and argyle owl for reviewing! Thank you also to everybody who had has favorited this or put this story under story alert. Reviews are always really appreciated; feedback, opinions on characters or plots, guessing what's going to happen, even just knowing that somebody's reading is great!


	20. Mother and Father's House

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Mother and Father's House**

Lying injured enough that I could barely sit up meant that I spent most of my time doing nothing but thinking. Without being able to walk around, though, I had very little new experiences to think about, and it was under that sort of paradox that I spent most of my time analyzing the letter Tarazet had sent me. _He said he's not feeling well, maybe he's ill, _was my first thought. _Except wizards don't get sick very often, and if they do all they have to do is take a Pepper-Up potion. Unless he's seriously ill with a rare disease…_I refused to follow that train of thought any longer, because rare diseases aren't very easily treatable, and I didn't want to think about the consequences of one such illness. _Maybe he can't leave the house for another reason, but he doesn't want to or can't tell me why,_ was my second potential explanation. _He gave large amounts of counterfeited galleons to some rather prestigious members of the wizarding (and Death Eater) communities, and they were all extremely displeased when the Ministry discovered they were counterfeits. Even if they immediately ratted out Tarazet, so _their_ reputations escaped mostly unscathed,_ _it wouldn't surprise me if some of them are still nursing a grudge. Are they threatening Tarazet, and that's why he doesn't leave the house? Or maybe they're making good on their threats, and that's why he can't leave…_I stopped my thoughts there. I was worried enough without imagining what sort of form their revenge might take. The third explanation I thought was, _Maybe Tarazet just doesn't want to see me. Maybe he's still mad about the last time we were supposed to see each other fifteen years ago. _This explanation aroused a combination of guilt and sadness in me, and I hastily managed to clear it off my list of possible explanations. It simply wouldn't make sense for him to suddenly start refusing to see me when he had already seen me, and the written words of the letter itself didn't fit with that explanation. There would be no reason for it to be in shaky, sloppy printing, instead of his normal pristine cursive, if that was his motive behind it. Unfortunately, without that explanation, there were only the first two explanations left. I hoped that if something was wrong, someone else might look into it, but I knew I was hoping in vain; Deneb certainly wouldn't care, and Tarazet had no friends left over from his pre-Azkaban days.

Besides thinking about the letter, my only other focus was recovering from the curse. In my first day of recovery, Sev cast so many spells on me and gave me so many potions to drink that I felt as though I must have drunk the equivalent of the Hogwarts Lake. I spent the next two days in his quarters, because evidently the wound was too close to my heart for me to be safely moved any more than necessary. I felt horrible at intruding on his hospitality so much, but part of me was secretly ecstatic at being able to spend so much time with him.

By the beginning of the week, I was sleeping in my own quarters again, for better or worse. I was rather surprised to find that Severus's quarters were only down the hall from mine; I had never realized they were so close together. By the end of the week I was down to one potion a day, but still quite a few spells, and I could stand and walk short distances. Sev still didn't want me to start teaching my classes again, but I had another plan for what I was going to do with my day. While he was busy teaching, I slowly walked towards the Forbiddean Forest and prepared to apparate. Severus wouldn't approve of me venturing so far away from Hogwarts, I was sure, but I didn't care; I was determined to see what was wrong with Tarazet.

When I finished apparating, and my feet hit the ground again, my knees buckled under me. Right into a muddy patch of ground. Great. I stood up and tried to steady myself, ignoring the severe disorientation and dizziness I was experiencing. In front of me stood a small dilapidated house, which was nearly alone on the country road. There were several scraggly bushes out front, and on the rolling hill behind it, a few leafless trees stood in the distance. I tapped my wand on the door handle and, as I was a Colburn, it sprung open to allow me in. It was rather surreal to be standing again in the unchanged house, as though I was still a Hogwarts student. I quietly closed the door behind me, and strained my ears to listen for the sound of anybody in the house. It was dead silent. _What if I'm overreacting?_ I thought suddenly. _What if he's fine, and I somehow misinterpreted his letter? Maybe the house is quiet because he's out at a job interview, or because he's silently reading somewhere._ I had come all this way, though, so I figured the least I could do was find him and assuage my, hopefully unfounded, worries. I started by walking down the narrow, poorly-lit hallway to my Father's study, but no one was there. A variety of quills were neatly lined up on the desk, and several dusty, stacked folders labeled with the name of the company that Father had worked at also rested on the polished wood. The partition which used to divide the study into two halves had been removed, and in the other half there was now a file cabinet and a comfortable looking chair. The last time I had been in this study was when I was moving out after Hogwarts, and the partitioned half of the room had been my bedroom; our house did not have enough actual bedrooms to accommodate all of us.

A flight of stairs was close by to the study, so I climbed the wooden steps to the first story, wincing at how loudly the stairs creaked; I wasn't sure why, but I had a vague notion that it might be better for me to move stealthily through the house until I determined why Tarazet was unable to leave. On the first floor there was only a washroom and four bedrooms, but I thought that if Tarazet was ill he might be resting up here. The first door was the Master bedroom, and when I peeked in, I could guess that nobody had set foot in it for over five years. Every surface in the room was covered by a thick coat of dust, and all of Mother's and Father's belongings looked as though they had not been disturbed for quite some time. A faded drawing of the Colburn coat of arms hung on the wall directly opposite the bed, and under it a variety of photos rested. Seginus, in brilliant green and silver graduation robes, smiled out of an intricate brass-colored frame, while Matar, in a smaller frame next to him, did the same. Deneb's photo, surrounded by a pewter-colored frame, was next and he was similarly beaming, reaffixing the gleaming Head Boy badge on his silver and green robes. Tarazet's photo was next, but almost as though it was an afterthought, it had no proper frame and was only held up by a stiff paper backing.

I decided to check all of the rooms on the hallway, one by one, and I quietly walked into the next one. This room had been Deneb's, and it was preserved exactly as it had been while he was a student. Affixed to one wall was the remains of his Chocolate Card collection and a photo of a school-aged Marie-Ange; it appeared to be before one of Slughorn's Christmas parties, and she kept enthusiastically blowing kisses out of the photo. On the opposite wall was a crest of Slytherin with a large green and silver swath of color behind it. Deneb hadn't left anything else in his room when he moved out, except a tattered quill, a few pieces of scratch paper, and a book on learning French that he had bought to impress Marie-Ange, until he realized that she didn't actually speak French. Still straining my ears for the sound of human activity, I walked into the adjacent room. Like the previous rooms, there was no sign of any recent human activity. Unlike the rest of the house, though, it was not identical to how it had been when I was growing up. Formerly Tarazet's room, it seemed that my Mother had transformed it entirely into a sewing and crafts room. Where his bed had been, there was now a very large trunk filled with different colors of yarns, and his bookcase was now filled with a variety of scissors, needles and a few scraps of cloth. I had spent most of my free time in Tarazet's room while growing up, my bedroom being rather small, and I noticed that the chair I had often read in was still there, only now in front of an empty loom.

I checked the last room on the hallway, and was surprised to find that Seginus and Matar's bedroom did not have the preserved, almost museum-like quality of the other rooms. All of their belongings were still there, only they had been rather haphazardly rearranged. All of the objects, posters and sets of robes from Seginus's half of the room had been removed and dumped into only semi-orderly piles on Matar's half of the room. A photo of them dressed in the Slytheirn Quidditch robes, and holding up their beater's bats, grinned up at me from one such pile. I looked up and noticed that the two constellations painted on the ceiling of the room still stretched across both halves and that the stars my brothers were named after continued to twinkle particularly brightly. Even though Seginus's half of the room was mostly empty, there were some books, robes and quills by his bed. I was unsure whether I ought to be consoled by the appearance of recent human activity, or whether that coupled with the lack of any human actually being there should be a cause for worry. I looked at one of the pages of parchments by Seginus's bed, and it seemed to be the second page of a letter. Scanning the first few lines was enough to tell me that it wasn't Seginus's. It said:

_Transfiguration: O _

_Charms: O_

_Potions: A_

_History of Magic: A_

and I noticed it was attached to a job application that filled out in neat, cursive handwriting. I looked around the room again. It seemed as though when Tarazet had moved back in a few months ago he had decided to use Seginus's room as his, probably fearing it would be rude to rearrange Mother's and Father's belongings without consulting his siblings. I gave a final look around the room, and it struck me that the unmade bed, with the sheets messily balled on top, was a bit uncharacteristic of Tarazet and his neatness. I thought that perhaps he had simply become messier while in Azkaban, and that there was no need for me to be worrying about trivial things. Despite the fact that I was normally rather messy, I was seized by the urge to at least make the bed look slightly neater, and I grabbed the sheets to smooth them out. I vaguely noticed a small discoloration on part of the blanket, but I didn't pay any attention to it until I laid it out flat; there was a streak of reddish-brown color that stretched over a foot long and was several centimeters wide. I was seized by a sudden feeling of horror, and desperately thought, _Surely it's not…blood?_ There were a few streaks of the reddish-brown color on the mattress, also, and with a foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach, I closed my eyes and smelled the blanket. Blood. It was blood. When I strained my ears, I no longer heard the stuffy silence of the house, but instead the pounding of my heart as terror was pumped through my veins.

There was not enough blood for its loss to be fatal, but it was certainly far more than could be released from any mere accidental cut. No, somebody had most likely attacked him, while he was sleeping, judging by the location. No question that it was a wizard or witch; my parents had long ago put charms surrounding the house so that people could only enter if they were invited by a Colburn. So either the wizard or witch had broken the charm, or they had been invited. Unless Tarazet had managed to form enemies while in Azkaban, it was probably one of the snooty, already filthy rich Death Eaters who he had donated counterfeited galleons to in order to help the Death Eater cause. He ("he" because there were many more male than female Death Eaters) was undoubtedly angry that his reputation might have been tarnished by being associated with Tarazet, the counterfeiter. After all, reputation was everything for purebloods. _But, really, was any pureblood's reputation hurt _that_ much by Tarazet's actions?_ I wonderingly thought. It suddenly struck me, that I had only thought of two of the ways a wizard might enter the house: he could have broken the protective charm, or he could have been invited, but he could also be a Colburn. Deneb's reputation had been temporarily damaged by having Tarazet, his brother, arrested and thrown in Azkaban. _Except Deneb seems to have overcome that and become moderately successful, even if he's never going to make it to Minister of Magic,_ I countered. Besides, he didn't really seem to be the blood-thirsty type.

Seginus and Matar would definitely fit the bill for blood-thirsty, but they were already in prison when Tarazet was arrested, their reputations destroyed by their own actions. Beyond that, there were no grudges between them, at least not that I knew of. While growing up they had gotten along okay, not great, but certainly nothing warranting an attack. The main point of contention between them had always been me, with Seginus and Matar both arguing that Tarazet should only associate with other Slytherin men. Seginus and Matar had not even attacked me to the point of drawing blood, though, and the only other point of conflict between Seginus and Tarazet had been one-way; Tarazet, as the fourth one born, had often been annoyed at Seginus's general haughtiness at being the heir, but that was no reason for said heir to attack him.

I descended to the ground floor, and was making my way back to the entry hall when another thought struck me. Why was there blood only on the sheets and mattress? If he had been bleeding that profusely, why were there no drops of blood anywhere else in the house? Nothing seemed to be making sense. I paused in entry hall and carefully regarded the dark hardwood floor. Either going away from, or coming towards the door, there was a line of dried blood droplets that stopped suddenly beyond a certain distance into the hallway. I wasn't sure whether to be glad that the mystery of no blood anywhere else was solved or not. Cautiously, I followed the hallway towards the living room, one of the few rooms in the house I had yet to look into. Even from slightly down the hall, I could tell that the living room looked almost exactly as it had while I was growing up, down to all of Mother's and Father's belongings still lining the fireplace mantel. While the room wasn't exactly messy, it had a feeling of disrepair and uncleanliness that my parents would have been too proud to ever allow to infiltrate their house. I fully stepped into the room and immediately took a shocked step backwards, running into the wall. Without even realizing it, I had clasped my hands to my mouth to keep a horrified gasp from leaving, and I felt fear coursing through my veins. Tarazet's bony figure was lying curled up on a small, worn brown couch on the opposite side of the living room. I thought that I would never see him looking worse than when he had immediately been released from Azkaban, but I ate my words now. His left arm was outstretched, with several bloodied cloths wrapped around it, and his normally pale face had gained a sickly yellow tint. On the floor there was a small pile of other bloodied rags, and many empty containers labeled "One dose blood replenishing potion." _Why didn't I tell Deneb to check on him?_ I guiltily demanded of myself as I raced across the room. _Or—or—tell _anybody_ to check on him, one of my friends at Hogwarts, anybody? I wouldn't have cared if people associated me with my convicted criminal of a brother, as long as it meant he'd be okay! _I threw myself at the foot of the couch and prayed that he was only asleep. "Tarazet," I desperately pleaded, placing a hand on his shoulder.

…

A/N: So I tried to make this chapter suspenseful, and it'd be really great to hear your opinions on it. Even reviews just showing that somebody's reading are great! I also wanted to say thank you to grumpirah, Mywaychan, Someotherperson, argyle owl, tibys and Sunny Christian for reviewing.


	21. Return to Hogwarts

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Return to Hogwarts**

Tarazet jumped awake and, with a startled look on his face, reflexively whipped out his wand with his right hand. "Oh, it's just you," he wheezed before visibly relaxing. "That's good. I thought I heard sounds but, I mean, I can't duel with my right hand. You know I'm left handed."

I heaved a relieved sigh: he was alive, and well enough to be awake and talking. He was also bleeding, from the looks of it, but I would take what I could get. Exhausted, and beginning to feel rather light-headed from all of my exertion, I sunk to the floor. "What happened?" I asked, gesturing towards his arm and the bloodied rags.

"There was a Death Eater battle. It was chaos. There were so many of us, and so many Aurors in this tiny tunnel, the Underground or whatever Muggles call it, and it was just chaos," he moaned. "One of the other Death Eaters, I didn't see who—or rather I saw who but they were wearing a mask, I mean obviously, so I couldn't give them a name—accidentally hit me with a curse." He was speaking in a rather hazy voice, and it was clear he was too exhausted for his mind to work perfectly clearly. I gathered enough details from his story, though, to know what had happened. He had been in one of the back-up regiments that had been called to the battle my regiment had started. I felt myself further calm down, knowing that he was in no active danger beyond whatever after-effects the curse might have.

"Is the blood on your sheets related to this?" I asked, still trying to comprehend that his injury was caused unintentionally.

"I've been keeping my arm wrapped up in cloths, but I think they slipped off one night. I was sleeping there until it became too much effort to go up and down the stairs to get to the kitchen," he mumbled, and with his bloody arm he gestured towards the kitchen door only a meter away from the couch he was on.

"Let me see your wound." I started gently peeling the bloodied rags off of his thin left arm and felt a look of revulsion form on my face at the sight. There was a large gash all the way from his bicep down to his wrist. It was gaining a yellowish-greenish tinge and was still actively bleeding, albeit very slowly, even though he had received it almost a week ago. When it reached his forearm the gash curved in such a way that it went parallel to the skull's open mouth in the Dark Mark, and made it seem as though its jaw was open impossibly wide in a maniacal laugh. It looked rather like the curse I had been hit with, and as soon as I thought that another wave of fatigue hit me. "Why didn't you go to St. Mungo's?" I asked, exhausted and exasperated at his injury.

"They'd see my Dark Mark," he said shortly, and he closed his eyes again, as though talking was too great of an effort.

I understood his logic, but that didn't mean he was going to heal on his own, and I felt another wave of worry and helplessness. "I got your letter, but I couldn't come any sooner," I blurt out, feeling rather guilty for my lack of action. "I couldn't leave Hogwarts."

Even with his eyes closed, a slight frown appeared on his face. "Was Snape bothering you or something?" he selflessly and weakly asked in a concerned tone, before continuing in a slightly annoyed tone, "Snape seems to keep sticking his nose into your business."

I let out a slight laugh at how far wrong my brother's guess was. "No, Severus has been fine. I—uh—" I struggled to think of something to say; I certainly couldn't say that I was injured at the same battle as him, because that would reveal I had been at the battle in the first place. I didn't want to lie to my brother, either, though. "Severus says that the curse Seginus and Matar used on me relapsed, so I haven't been very, uh, mobile, recently." There, that wasn't a lie. It _was_ what the Potions Master had told the other professors, even if what he was saying itself wasn't true.

Tarazet opened his eyes, the concerned frown reappearing on his face. "Are you alright?"

I blinked at him disbelievingly, before replying, "I'm fine. You're the one lying bleeding on the couch."

He let out a sound that sounded like a snorted laugh before it withered into his wheezing breathing pattern. "I've been taking blood replenishing potions. I'm fine," he said in a feeble voice.

"Blood replenishing potions aren't going to be enough for Dark Magic like this," I sighed. "Does it hurt?"

"Like a Cruciatus curse," his thin, pale lips trembled.

I held my head in my hands and worriedly thought about what I could do to. My annoyance at not being able to come up with any ideas spilled into my tone as I said, "You know, you could have said something more specific in your letter than 'Sorry, I'm too unwell to have lunch this week.'"

His shoulders made a small movement, and I guessed that he was trying to shrug them. "I promised we could have lunch this week, and I didn't want you to think I was ditching you. Besides, I can't exactly write, 'This curse hit me right on my Dark Mark.' What if it was intercepted?"

Frustrated, and still worried about him, I spitefully continued in my annoyed tone, "What if I hadn't picked up on your hint? Or what if I had just decided to not come? You would have had to do something, and then maybe you would have been too injured to do anything!"

He let out a single wheeze of a laugh, before weakly replying, "But I knew you'd come. You may be working for Dumbledore and friendly with Harry Potter, but you're the same person you always were."

My annoyed, worried demeanor faded into a smile and I felt a warmth in my heart at his faith in me. "I'll think of something and come back tomorrow," I sighed, and with that I shakily got to my feet. Once I reached the threshold of the room, I turned around again; it looked as though my brother had already fallen back asleep.

* * *

The next day I apparated to Tarazet's house at around the same time, only this time instead of drinking the potion Severus gave me in the morning, I had put it in a thermos and brought it with me. I felt much weaker than I had yesterday, and I dragged myself into the house to find my brother in exactly the same position I had left him; I vaguely wondered if he had woken up once since I left.

"Tarazet," I gently awoke him again, holding onto the arm of the sofa to keep myself standing despite how faint I felt. His eyes fluttered open, and a small smile formed on his face as he quietly mumbled a greeting. "Drink this," I commanded, placing the thermos in his right hand. He finished drinking, and I took the thermos back. "Move your feet," I said tiredly, and I sat down at the foot of the couch, too exhausted to stand much longer. Not being familiar with the curse that had struck him, I had been unable to think of anything to help him heal short of the potion that Sev brewed for me. If the potion didn't make an impact, I would have to find my way to the library and start doing research.

It seemed that neither Tarazet nor I had the energy to say much of anything and, after resting for what felt like an hour, I staggered outside and apparated back to Hogwarts. I felt a wave of frustration that I seemed to be so much weaker today than yesterday and vaguely wondered if my failure to drink the potion made that large of a difference in my strength. Once at the Forbidden Forest, I had to rest for another half hour before slowly beginning the long trek to the Slytherin dungeons. I was in a narrow, deserted hallway when I started to feel the last of my energy desert me. With a pang, I remembered the last time I had collapsed in a hallway and whispered "_Evincious." _A minute later, Sev was walking down the hall towards me, and I felt my heart swell with a sense of relief at seeing him.

"What are you doing so far from your quarters?" he demanded. I didn't reply but instead nearly collapsed and put my arms around him, unable to support all of my own weight myself any longer. At first he seemed surprised, but then he put his arms around me to keep me from falling and continued in his annoyed tone, "You can't go exhausting yourself like this. You need to rest."

I vaguely nodded and put my head on his shoulder in an attempt to make the world stop spinning. Part of me was quite focused on my fatigue, but another part of me couldn't help but realize that I was essentially hugging Sev. I was determined to not look into his inky black eyes, irrationally afraid that he might somehow recognize the love in mine, and so I instead stared at intently at a spot of wall over his shoulder.

"Let's get you back to your quarters," he said gruffly, and breaking the embrace he cast a charm to make it easier for me to support my own weight. Once we reached my room, he told me to rest and disappeared, presumably to brew another potion; I felt as though I must be single-handedly emptying the Hogwarts cupboards of potion ingredients. Sev briefly returned with, sure enough, another potion, and he handed it to me before taking a seat on a nearby chair. "Where were you going? Or coming from?" he sounded annoyed, and I noticed his dark eyes were locked onto mine.

"What's it to you?" I said, not wanting to meet his gaze and knowing he wouldn't approve of me leaving Hogwarts.

"What's it to me? Do you not remember that I told you to not travel more than necessary, because of how close the curse landed to your heart? Are you not aware that if your heart fails to function you die?" he sounded furious. "Look me in the eyes, Liseli." I grudgingly tore my gaze away from a patch of ceiling and looked into his eyes; there was something almost calming about their endless, obsidian-coloured depth. "Why were you leaving Hogwarts?" he asked, still angry.

"Tarazet wasn't feeling well. I went to check on him," I grudgingly admitted.

Severus's face was still angry, only now there was an element of confusion to it, too. He stated one shocked word: "What?"

"Tarazet owled me almost a week ago, and said he wasn't feeling well. I went to check on him today and yesterday. Turns out, he was wounded in the same battle I was. Same type of curse, too, by the looks of it," I stated, mildly annoyed at having the information dragged out of me.

Sev was still looking deep into my eyes. "You gave him your dose of potion?" he sounded disbelieving.

"Yes, I did," I said curtly, sure that he was about to berate me.

"Why would you do that? He's horrible to you," he continued in the same tone.

I gave him a surprised look; I had not been expecting him to take that angle. "What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"All he does is insult you, attack you. Why would you sacrifice your own health for his?" he rephrased his question in the same tone.

"What am I supposed to do, let him suffer?" I said in a confused tone. To me, my course of action seemed obvious. "I wouldn't let him suffer. That'd be just cruel."

Sev was still looking at me intently, only now his facial expression had changed slightly. In addition to the disbelief, there was now an element of awe and something else I couldn't identify. It was the same something that had flitted across his only a few times before, and whatever it was, it looked utterly foreign on his face. I had never seen him so discombobulated. He stood up and softly shaking his head I caught a few of his whispered words as he walked away "…can't believe…your brother…too selfless…"

* * *

Severus forced me to rest, him stopping by frequently to check on me (or to make sure I hadn't run away again, as I thought.) It was the next day, a Saturday, and he was sitting in one of the chairs in my room reading. Suddenly, he said in a would-be casual voice, "Where does your brother live?"

I frowned and wondered what he was getting at. "Assuming you mean Tarazet, he lives at my mother and father's old house."

"What's the address?" he continued in his conversational tone.

"I don't know; what am I, a Muggle? Everybody either owls or apparatus," I said, suspicious. "Why are you asking?"

I heard him harshly exhale, and just from that I could tell he was annoyed before he even opened his mouth. "I brewed a double dose of potion. One's for your brother, because evidently that's the only way I'll get you to drink your dosage."

I was shocked. Severus barely knew Tarazet, and judging from the few times they had met, he had already started hating my brother. And yet he was still helping him, even if he did so with annoyance. I felt a wave of gratitude towards Sev wash over my heart.

"I can apparate you," I said softly.

"No. You'll weaken yourself too much," he stated in a final-sounding tone.

"I'm strong enough. I've done it before," I argued. "And I only need to show you where it is once."

He was giving me a steady look before he grudgingly said, "Fine. After that you rest. You haven't been able to teach for long enough as it is," he finished with a weakly annoyed snarl.

We left towards the Forbidden Forest, and he cast the charm to make it easier for me to support my own weight. I was fine until we reappeared after apparating, at which point I lost my balance and had to tightly onto his arm to steady myself again. Looking at the small worn down house, I felt the need to defend its dismal appearance and I lamely explained, "Tarazet hasn't been living here for very long, and before that my parents hadn't lived here for over five years." It seemed as though he didn't particularly require an explanation, though, and together we walked up to the front door. "Don't tell Tarazet I'm a Death Eater," I suddenly remembered to add. "He doesn't know."

Severus gave a brief nod as we walked into the dusty living room. Tarazet was, for once, awake, but otherwise he was in the same position on the couch. "What is _he_ doing here?" Tarazet gestured towards Sev with narrowed eyes; it sounded as though he was trying to ask in a menacing tone, only his voice was so feeble it came off rather pathetically.

"I brought him to help you," I explained in an annoyed tone.

Severus was looking at my brother with a very annoyed expression on his face, but none the less he approached Tarazet's wounded arm.

"I don't need your help," my brother glared at the greasy-haired man and clamped his right hand over the cloth on his left forearm, keeping it firmly in place.

"I'm a Death Eater, too," Sev snapped, harshly adding, "Let me see your arm."

With one last suspicious glare at Sev, Tarazet haltingly took the rags off to reveal the long, deep gash and his Dark Mark. Sev set about waving his wand and handing him the potion to drink, while I sat on the floor and rested. He was still casting spells when I heard him mutter "This could have killed you eventually if it wasn't treated. You're damn lucky Lee is so forgiving."

"Lee? Who's that?" my brother said in a confused voice. I looked up at Sev, rather surprised that he was using the nickname he had created for me when I had argued that Severus, at three syllables, was too long of a name.

"Your sister," he snapped.

"Never heard anybody call her Lee, before," he continued in his fatigued voice. He closed his eyes after he finished the sentence and I couldn't tell if he had fallen back asleep or not.

I continued watching Severus as he worked on my brother's wound for a period of time longer. He looked confident, skilled, sure in every spell he cast. I opened my moth and quietly said, "Thank you for doing this, Sev."

For a split second he stopped what he was doing. He mumbled something that sounded like "It's nothing," before hastily continuing his movements again.

…

A/N: Hee hee, I have far too much with Snape using legilimency on unsuspecting Liseli. On a different note, thank you very very much to angelofire, tibys, and PollyWantCookie for reviewing! Reviews are always appreciated.


	22. Valentine's Day

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Valentine's Day**

The next afternoon I stood outside of Sev's quarters, knocking on the wall next to the painting. It swung open and with a mildly surprised look on his face he invited me in.

"How's Tarazet?" I asked. I hadn't gone with him to my mother and father's house today, because he hadn't wanted me to apparate the long distance again.

"He'll live," Sev replied curtly, before returning to his seat at his desk. I gave him a scrutinizing look and he added in a slightly more polite tone of voice, "He's going to regain full use of his left arm. There's going to be a scar, though."

I nodded, and stood around awkwardly for a bit before leaving. Having broken the ice of visiting his quarters once, I visited his a few more times in the next week; I told myself it was because I was still recovering, so I might as well make it easier for him to check on me. He didn't seem to mind my visits, and for that I told myself (or perhaps "wildly hoped" would be more accurate) that it was because we were becoming friends. My more pessimistic side phrased it as "Well, he seems to have stopped actively disliking your presence."

By the start of February I was fully recovered and, with that, my excuse for visiting him disappeared. Teaching started occupying most of my time again and it was rather heartening that my students seemed happy to see me again. From what the students said, the substitute professors had varied from Severus, who repeatedly spilled over the end of class time and assigned an essay and a dozen detentions a day to Sprout, who knew very little about the class's material and had had them read silently or chat for the duration of every class.

At the end of one of my days of teaching, Hermione cautiously peeked her head into my office. "Professor Colburn? Are you busy? I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

"Of course," I smiled warmly at the most dedicated student I had.

"I was reading ahead in the book," she started, before diving into her book bag and opening the textbook to the corresponding page. For someone like Hermione, her question was actually relatively simple and I quickly pointed out what she had missed. She had seemed rather frazzled, even as she walked into my office, and I wondered if she was making silly mistakes because of that. "Exams getting to you? You seem sort of stressed," I said in the lightest, least intrusive way I could.

"Oh, no, exams are fine," she waved her hand. It seemed as though she wanted to say something more, but was unsure if she should. Finally, she blurt out, "Professor Colburn, when do boys stop being so dense?"

I gave a small understanding laugh and said, "That depends on the boy. Some by the time they're adults. Others, never."

She let out a huff. "And I swear, every other word out of my dormmates' mouths is 'Valentine's Day this' and 'Valentine's Day that'." It's still a whole week away!"

"Don't worry, it becomes much less of a big deal once everybody grows up. It's just sort of like any other day," I tried to comfort the annoyed girl in front of me.

"That's good to hear. Boys are just…so dense," she shook her head and let out an annoyed sigh. "So what are those books?" she tried to sound cheerful as she changed the subject and gestured towards the few books on a shelf behind me.

"Oh, those are my Defense Against the Dark Arts books from when I was at Hogwarts," I said as I pulled one down. "This one is from my sixth year, but it's older than that. Hand-me-downs," I pulled a smile as I gestured to the crossed-out names of my brothers in the front cover of the book.

"Has a lot changed since it was published, do you think?" she asked in a curious voice.

"A bit, but I wouldn't think a lot. We can compare the chapters with our current book." She seemed interested in that, so I started flipping through the book. Something fluttered towards the ground, presumably a bookmark, and I leaned over to pick it up. It wasn't a bookmark, though, or at least it hadn't been designed as one. It was a photo.

On the far left stood a man, a boy, really, in green and silver Quidditch robes. He had short black hair with slightly longer bangs in front, and he was somewhat good-looking in a haughty sort of way. The boy on the far right was also relatively handsome and similarly dressed. His short hair was chestnut coloured, though, and his light blue eyes seemed to be positively sparkling. The girl in the middle looked short in comparison to the lean, long-legged boy on the right, but she was near in height to the black-haired boy. She was wearing the standard black Hogwarts uniform and was relatively plain looking. Her long chestnut hair stood out in the sunlight and you could see a green and silver scarf wrapped around her neck. All three of the teenagers had their arms around each other and were widely smiling, waving enthusiastically at the camera. It was a very idyllic picture.

At this point Hermione was also looking at the photo, and she timidly said, "The boy on the left looks like Sirius."

I nodded. "Regulus and Sirius looked pretty similar." Half-reminiscing I added, "This must've been after our first victory against Gryffindor in six years. You can see their red and gold," I pointed towards the background. "We didn't win a single match against them while James Potter was seeker."

She nodded. "Your hair looks nice down," she pointed towards the girl in the photo.

I touched the braid I had my hair up in. "It's simpler this way," I shrugged my shoulders.

"My hair's so bushy I can't do much of anything with it," she gave a sad smile. After a brief pause she pointed to the chestnut-haired boy and asked in an interested tone, "What position did he play?"

"Tarazet was a chaser. He wanted to be a seeker, but Regulus was too good," I explained.

"Tarazet?" she said, and it looked as though she was searching her memory to see where she had heard the name before. "He's your brother who stopped by, isn't he?" she asked in a very surprised tone. I nodded and she added "I didn't recognize him at all. He looks so…different."

It was very surreal to look at those young smiling faces, knowing that within a few years one would be dead and one would be in Azkaban. And the girl in the middle…I don't know about her. It certainly didn't feel like that could be me smiling so innocently and carefree.

* * *

It felt as though Valentine's Day approached painfully slowly. I say "painfully" because I noticed that Hermione was right: it seemed to be all the female students talked about and, being the youngest woman on the staff, quite a few approached me for advice on what to wear, or who to ask to Hogsmeade and how to ask. I would say I was happy when it was finally Valentine's Day, except seeing all of the doe-eyed couples holding hands caused a jealous pang in my heart.

"You wouldn't believe all of the requests I received to ignore my lesson plan and teach love potions today, instead," Severus drawled at dinnertime in the Great Hall.

"Oh? Is that why all of my students were sighing dreamily instead of paying attention?" I said with an ironic smile; I knew that Sev would never deviate from his lesson plan.

"Under that logic all of my students had love potions before they so much as set foot in the dungeons," he responded distractedly, trying to choose some food to eat that wasn't pink. That was rather difficult, though, as it seemed the House Elves had specifically tried to make everything pink for Valentine's Day.

"The House Elves seemed to have fun preparing tonight's meal," I said rather amused.

"Surely more fun than we're having eating it," Sev replied, eyeing the little amount of food I had on my plate.

I paused and wondered if I would have the guts to say the next sentence I had in my mind. "Hey, do you want to go to the kitchens and just order some different food?" I said in a forced casual tone, not looking him directly in the eyes.

" 'Different' seems to imply that this qualifies as food," he said sarcastically.

"So is that a yes? I'm going to go either way," I tried to make it sound as though I could really care less whether he came or not.

He gave one last look at all of the pink food on the table and replied, "I suppose."

_Yes! He's coming!_ my mind enthusiastically thought as my heart increased a hundred fold. _No, Liseli, this isn't a date, just because it's on Valentine's Day,_ I tried to force myself to calm down. _It's not even a 'just friends' thing. It's a 'he's hungry and wants edible food' thing._

We walked to the kitchens where the enthusiastic House Elves didn't show the least offense that we weren't eating their pre-prepared food. Instead, they eagerly asked what we wanted and started bustling around to make it. I had just started eating when I felt a sudden pain in my left forearm.

"I didn't know something was up tonight," I said coolly to Sev.

He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?" I started casually fingering my left forearm and saw the look of comprehension dawn on his face. "Oh, yes. The regiments are taking turns; it's supposed to be like a chain reaction."

I nodded. "Well, I should probably get going," and with that I left my unfinished meal and started toward the Forbidden Forest.

After apparating, I reappeared in a narrow, dark street. It was a city, but it didn't appear to be as dense or urban as London. The commander of our regiment was counting heads, to see if we were all in attendance, and with a satisfied nod he launched into his speech. "Alright, here's our orders, straight from the Dark Lord himself." I had to stifle a laugh. If the Death Eaters were anything, it was a bureaucracy. The only people who received orders directly from the Dark Lord were the Inner Circle and maybe the leaders of the regiment directly below them. My regiment, though, was far below that, at the level second from bottom. The only people below us were the new recruits who were in a temporary training regiment before being automatically promoted after a few months. After that, promotions came on the basis of dedication, strength and usefulness. As I was none of the above, I had yet to be promoted. If I had to guess, Tarazet was probably one level above me. Seginus and Matar were both higher ranking, I was sure; they were insanely dedicated, much more so than Tarazet. I wouldn't have been surprised if Deneb was a Death Eater, if his desire for connections was any clue, but I didn't know what level he might be.

The head of my regiment looked around at us, having finished his speech. Technically he was supposed to know all of our names, so we could be punished if we deserted. Somehow I doubted he actually did, though. Our mission this time was to cause mayhem until Aurors started appearing, at which point we would apparate to a new location and continue. Without an announcement or a word of warning to the unsuspecting Muggles, the members of my regiment started casting spells. Yells of surprise, fear and pain started to go up. Some Muggles started running away, while others foolishly gathered to see what was happening.

"_Levicorpus_," I said lazily, and the man in front of me grabbed frantically for the ground as he was lifted into the air.

Behind me, I could hear screams that clearly came from a Cruciatus curse.

I transfigured the floating man's neck tie into a garter snake. He let out a startled yelp and threw it to the ground. I let out a laugh at the man's fear; the snake had been neither poisonous nor a constrictor.

To my left I saw two children with their mother, who had just been put under the Imperius curse. I looked away; I didn't want to know what she was going to be forced to do to them.

I cast a charm to make the man dangling in front of me deaf in one ear. He started vigorously shaking his head as though there was water in his left ear.

To my right a Muggle man hit the ground, spread eagle with a glazed look in his eyes.

"Stop spending so much time on one Muggle!" I heard an order barked in my ears. When I turned I saw the head of the regiment facing me. "Kill him and move on to another one."

I replied with a falsely enthusiastic "Yes, sir!", glad that my annoyed expression was hidden behind my mask. With an "Avada Kedavra" the formerly levitating Muggle fell to the ground, looking as though he had simply fallen asleep.

We apparated to about half a dozen more places, always following the same pattern. Whenever we were about to apparate to a new place, the head would bellow "Finish them off!" and with a chorus of "Avada Kedavra"'s and a sweep of green light one portion of the street would become suddenly still. Those two words had become practically meaningless to me. I didn't like using them on people, but if I refused, what good would that do? I would be executed for being a traitor, and another Death Eater would immediately take my place and continue killing. I told myself that at least if I was alive, I could be as merciful as possible to the people I was dealing with.

I apparated back to the Forbidden Forest late at night, exhausted. I was trudging back to the castle when a voice said "I wouldn't apparate to the Forbidden Forest, if I were you."

I was so startled that someone was out this late at night, and had seen me returning, that I must have leapt about a meter in the air. "Oh, Merlin, it's just you, Sev. You scared me."

"It looks a bit suspicious if you're coming back from the Forbidden Forest," he drawled, falling into step with me. "Nobody decides to go for an evening stroll there," he inclined his head toward the dark, foreboding forest.

"And where are you coming from?" I said, knowingly eyeing the cloak he had put on over his Death Eater robes.

"Hogsmeade," he said smoothly. "Plenty of people go to Hogsmeade in the evening."

"I don't know if people go for a walk in Hogsmeade at this time of night, either," I said, a weak smile starting to form on my lips.

"More people at Hogsmeade than the Forbidden Forest," he said neutrally.

We walked together in silence. Just as we were departing for our separate quarters I casually threw out with a sarcastic voice, "Hell of a way to spend Valentine's Day."

"Oh, absolutely," he replied with the same hint of sarcasm in his voice.

…

A/N: A big thank you to Mywaychan, SomeOtherPerson, PollyWantCookie, and Leslie for reviewing!!


	23. Quidditch and the Hog

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Quidditch and the Hog**

I blearily opened my eyes the next morning, a Saturday, and tried to focus on the clock across the room. 9:50…? No, 11:45. I remembered with a jolt that I was supposed to meet Neville at noon to tutor him. _Wow, I must have been tired_, I thought as I glanced at the clock again and started hastily getting ready. By the time I arrived at my office, Neville was already standing outside. "Sorry, hope I'm not late," I smiled embarrassedly.

"No, I'm just early, professor," he said respectfully. We walked into my office and he explained, "I'm having trouble aiming the anti-stunning spell. I can cast it, but I'm never sure how close it has to be to the path of the actual stunning spell."

"That's more of a learned thing," I said thoughtfully. "It doesn't have to cross the stunning spell mid-air, but it does have to be fairly close." The spell we were discussing was a specific counter to the stunning spell; if the caster of the stunning spell was powerful, this charm was much more effective than a shield charm.

He started practicing the stunning counter while I gave him pointers. After that, we moved onto another spell, and by the end of the hour we were sitting and going over the most recent chapter in the textbook.

The door opened and I looked up to see Sev standing in the doorway. His dark eyes glanced from me, to Neville, to the textbook before he drawled, "Longbottom is also failing your class, Lee? I would ask how many classes he's failing in total, but perhaps a better question would be how many classes he's taking period. That would also answer the first question, as well," he said silkily.

Neville's face gained a pinkish tint and I replied on his behalf in a slightly annoyed tone. "Neville is doing perfectly fine in my class, and I'm sure he's doing equally well in all of his other classes. He's a very dedicated student." The pink tint to Neville's cheeks became even more pronounced as I said this.

The teenage boy looked up at the clock and hastily replied, "I don't think I have any more questions, professor. And I'm supposed to meet up with some friends soon, anyway." With a last "Thank you" he darted out of the room.

"If Longbottom's not failing your class, why on earth are you spending your Saturday tutoring him?" Sev drawled as he casually took a seat.

"Why wouldn't I? He wants to do better," I shrugged. The odd look I had seen only a few times before flitted across his face again. "So I'm assuming you're here for a reason other to berate my students," I changed the topic of conversation.

"I saw you weren't at breakfast or lunch today, and I wanted to—ah—make sure nothing had gone awry last night," he subtly alluded to the Death Eater attacks.

"I'm not _that_ injury prone," I rolled my eyes, annoyed that he might see me as weak. "You saw me last night, anyway. It's not like I fell down a flight of stairs on the way to breakfast."

"No, falling down a flight of stairs wouldn't do much to a witch," he said disinterestedly. There was a pause and then he asked in the same tone, "Are you going to the Quidditch game today?"

"I didn't know there was a Quidditch game, today," I said, mildly surprised.

"Not Slytherin," he clarified. "Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff."

"Oh." I thought for a moment and replied "Yeah, I think I will. Quidditch is fun to watch even if your own team isn't playing. What about you?"

"I was planning to," he replied coolly. "It starts soon, you know."

"Considering I didn't know about the game's existence until about thirty seconds ago, no, I don't know," I replied, my mood improving. "We should probably leave now, then," I attempted to switch to the plural first person without hesitating. He stood up and we started making our way to the Quidditch field. As soon as we had set foot outside, though, my owl immediately started following me.

"Your owl was waiting for you rather impatiently at breakfast," Sev said, eyeing the owl as it flew around my head, trying to get my attention.

It finally landed on my shoulder and I took the scrap of parchment tied around its leg. It said in a recognizable cursive script "Lunch? –T". Severus had not been giving me updates on Tarazet's health, but I judged from the neat handwriting that his left arm was fully recovered. I scribbled on the back of the parchment "Week from today? Same time and place" and gave it to my owl without so much as breaking my walking pace.

"So did you ever play Quidditch?" I tried to make conversation with Severus.

"No," he replied with a frown. "I didn't like it very much while I was at Hogwarts myself. I felt that many of the Quidditch players were a bit self-centered. They seemed to think that one's skill in Quidditch was everything, and that turned me away from the game a bit."

"Oh." I thought about how my ex-boyfriend, Regulus, and three of my brothers had been on the Slytherin Quidditch team, but I decided not to say anything about that. Instead, I replied "I never played competitively, but I liked playing with friends. I was almost always Keeper, because that's the position my brothers forced me to play when I was younger, and I just got used to it."

At that point we had reached the Quidditch stadium. It was a mass of red, gold, yellow and black (although the gold and the yellow looked awfully similar from a distance.) Even though the game had not yet started, the crowd was already making a great deal of noise, and I couldn't help but feel that Sev and I stood out: silent, dressed in dark colors, and neither Gryffindor nor Hufflepuff. I noticed that Neville was sitting in the front row with Hermione, Ginny and Luna, and they, like the rest of the stadium, went crazy with cheering when the teams swooped out onto the field. The game was rather exhilarating to watch, and it even helped me succeed in putting the previous night's attacks fully from my mind.

* * *

The next week passed rather quietly, excluding escorting some second years to the hospital wing when they accidentally turned purple from the defensive charms they were practicing. It almost seemed to me as though I had blinked, and it was suddenly the weekend again. I had not been aware that Saturday was a Hogsmeade day for the students when I had agreed to see Tarazet, and I was now sitting in the Hog's Head, looking around the glum joint to make sure there were no students. I most definitely did not want the students to associate me with my convicted criminal of a brother, and I felt almost a twinge of guilt for being so ashamed of him.

"I see we both have a liking for corner tables," my youngest brother said as way of greeting as he approached the table.

I gave him a slight smile and replied "Good to see you're feeling better."

He nodded. "Yes, thankfully. I didn't know you were friends with Snape," he raised his eyebrows as he met my eyes.

"What makes you say we're friends?" I said in a casual tone, trying to hide my rising emotion.

"He was doing you an awfully big favor in healing me. And 'Lee' and 'Sev' don't exactly sound like the most formal method of address," he was eyeing me with an amused look, before he added in a mischievous voice that was a notch quieter, "Why, by the way you were treating him, I'd say you fancy him, if I didn't know better." And here he gave me a look that said he did too know better, even if he wasn't saying as much in those words.

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut again before curtly replying, "We're just friends."

"Funny, a second ago you were implying that you weren't even friends." He looked terribly amused by all this and added in a slightly more serious tone, "I will say one thing for him, though. It's very nice to meet somebody with their head screwed on right."

"What do you mean?" I said suspiciously.

"Well judging by what he _is_," a Death Eater, "He holds good beliefs. But at the same time, he doesn't strike me as being a crazy fanatic like Seginus and Matar are." I remembered Sev's comments about how there was nothing wrong with Muggle born parents and wondered how accurate Tarazet's impression really was.

Somehow I felt I shouldn't reveal this, though, so instead I coolly replied "I suppose 'good' is a matter of opinion."

Tarazet looked exasperated. "I just don't get why you don't agree with our beliefs, Liseli. I mean, Merlin knows some of the extremists are crazy. People like Seginus and Matar, who think that women are property and Muggles are animals, are living in the Dark Ages. But you just can't deny that if Wizards keep accepting and marrying Muggleborns there are going to be repercussions."

"Like what?" I said angrily. We had already this argument before, but we seemed to be going down the same path to have it again.

"Well, for one thing I bet if you look at the statistics you'd find that Mudbloods and people with one Muggle parent aren't as successful," he pointedly answered my question.

"There are plenty of wonderfully successful Muggle-borns. My best student is one." At this point we were speaking in civil but annoyed voices.

"I'm not arguing against that, I'm just saying that they're exceptions to the trend. If somebody grows up with two magical parents, and spends the first eleven years of their life completely surrounded by magic, do you really think that that's not going to give them an advantage? Look, whether it's Mudbloods or marrying Muggles themselves, it's going to have consequences for the Wizarding race. Whether they intend to or not, they're slowly destroying Wizarding culture, destroying its uniqueness and making it more like Muggle culture," he continued his meticulous argument while I attempted to be polite and restrain myself from interrupting.

He seemed to have finished his thought so I replied in a forced calm tone, "Look, Tarazet. You know I'm proud of our pure blood, and that I've never been exactly an enthusiastic defender of Muggle rights, but you also know I don't share your beliefs. I hate the way purebloods will discriminate against individuals simply because of the way they were born. It disgusts me and I refuse to take part. You may have all of these high and mighty ideals, but it's awful what they lead to, especially the attacks." The various attacks I had been witness to and participated in flashed before my eyes.

"It's not like the other side is so high and mighty, no matter how they try and portray themselves," he said in the same civil but annoyed tone.

"They don't kill people," I said shortly.

"No, they just hastily run people through a court designed to give as much punishment to as much people as possible," his voice gained a bitter tone. "Do you know how many life sentences in Azkaban they issued in a single week? Over two dozen. You can't tell me that all of those cases were treated with the utmost justice. A death sentence would be more merciful than a life sentence in Azkaban." He paused and sighed as though he was trying to release his bitterness. "Now, I'm not exactly for all of these attacks on Muggles," he added in a slightly less bitter tone. "But they're necessary casualties. Necessary casualties for a necessary war. If they'll get Muggles and Mudbloods to leave us alone, then they're worth it."

I shook my head. I couldn't think of anything more to say. We seemed to have reached a stalemate of the wills, him disappointed in me and me ashamed of him. We both firmly believed that the other one held the wrong beliefs. Tarazet sighed and leaned back in his chair, apparently having reached the same conclusion. "I'm going to go place our orders with the bartender. He seems to have forgotten us back here."

He left the table and I started looking around the room again, thinking about how it was a Hogsmeade day for students. I was still nervous about being associated with my ex-convict of a brother, and I was just thinking, _Good, there aren't any students here_, when the door opened and in walked Hagrid with Harry, Hermione and Ron. _Crap!_ I thought, and I immediately started looking the other direction, hoping they wouldn't see me. But, no, I could see them in my peripheral vision. Not only had they seen me, they were walking towards me. _Crap!_ I reflexively thought again.

"Liseli!" Hagrid heartily exclaimed. "I was just showing them," he gestured towards the trio, "The Hog's Head. I feel it has a bit more character than the Three Broomsticks. Say, what're you doin', sitting by yourself? Mind if we join you?"

"Oh, uh, of course," I quickly thought how to phrase my jumbled thoughts. "I am with somebody, though," I stated and, speak of the devil, Tarazet came walking back at that moment.

…

A/N: A big thank you to MarkDarcy, Mywaychan, tibys, PollyWantCookie, angelofire and argyle owl for reviewing! I appreciate every single review :)


	24. Of Flobberworms and Family Dynamics

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Of Flobberworms and Family Dynamics**

I saw Tarazet's eyes quickly scan the faces of the four people who had just sat down at the table: Hagrid, Ron, Harry and Heremione. For a split second I could practically imagine how he saw them: the half-breed and the blood traitor, responsible for the gradual downfall of the Wizarding race. And Harry, responsible not only for that, but also indirectly responsible for his fifteen year stay in Azkaban. And me, his little sister, friends with these people. I cringed, afraid of what he might say to them. Thankfully he only said in a rather cool tone with a hint of anger to his words, "Merlin, Liseli, I didn't know you were so needy. I was only gone for a few moments."

I felt a surge of annoyance at his insult, mixed with a sense of relief that at least he hadn't directly insulted them. Hagrid looked around awkwardly for a split second before saying, "Oh, gosh, I didn't know you were with somebody, Liseli. We can go sit somewhere else."

"No, no, it's fine," Tarazet replied coolly, giving me a quick glance before adding, "After all, if you're her _friends_," and here he accented the last word with a barely noticeable hint of annoyance and disappointment.

Hagrid, obviously having missed the subtle difference in tone, seemed somewhat heartened by the words and cheerfully replied, "Rubeus Hagrid. This is Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger an' of course I'm sure you recognize Harry Potter."

He nodded in acknowledgment and replied "Tarazet Colburn," as he grabbed another chair for the table. I vaguely wondered how much Hagrid and my three students remembered from what I had told them about Tarazet back in October: that he spent fifteen years in Azkaban for counterfeiting two hundred million Galleons.

"I was just telling Liseli that I think this place has a lot of character," Hagrid turned made a brave attempt at conversation.

"Yes, I suppose so," Tarazet said in a forced civil tone. "Personally, I prefer the Three Broomsticks. This place is rather—ah—dingy for my tastes. Which reminds me, you'll have to go up front to order. The bartender seems to be rather scatter-brained."

"Oh, alright. Well, it's always interesting talking to Abeforth," the large man laughed and took the others' orders. When he returned he attempted to start a conversation again by turning to my brother and saying "So what do you do?"

"Currently I'm unemployed, but I used to work for the Ministry," he said smoothly, not revealing that his employment status had changed only when he was arrested, fifteen years ago.

"Oh, my dad works there," Ron said brightly. "He's head of the office which confiscates those fake defensive charms and objects which everybody sells on Diagon Alley. His name's Arthur Weasley. Where did you work?"

He replied in a tone that was still cool and slightly condescending, "I worked at the Department of Magical Transportation. My job was to determine a method of tracking illegal Portkey and Floo Powder use."

Ron snorted out a laugh before quickly disguising it as a cough, while Tarazet gave him a quick glare. Clearly the red-haired boy, at least, had remembered that Tarazet had served time in Azkaban, and I suppose the irony of his last job had been too much to not react to.

At this point the bartender arrived with our drinks, and I took the opportunity to change the topic of conversation. "I saw your last Quidditch match," I said cheerfully, turning towards Ron and Harry.

"Oh yeah, that match was really close," Harry replied. "The Hufflepuff chasers were amazing." Ron grumbled something quietly and I remembered how many times he had let the Quaffle in. "I think Gryffindor still has a pretty good chance at the cup," he cheerfully clapped his hand on Ron's shoulder.

"With a Keeper like you and a Seeker like you, you have more than just a pretty good chance," Hagrid looked at them each in turn and smiled broadly.

"You're a seeker?" Tarazet looked mildly surprised. "Like your father." I knew Tarazet didn't like James Potter very much and I tried to give him a warning look, but he wasn't facing me.

"Yes, I am," Harry replied happily, taking Tarazet's last sentence as a compliment, evidently. "Did you know him?"

"You could say that," my brother replied in a tone of restrained anger. "He sent me to the Hospital Wing numerous times."

Harry looked surprised and I quickly stepped in, saying, "Numerous times is a bit of an exaggeration, Tarazet."

"Fine. He and Sirius sent me to the Hospital wing numerous times," he corrected himself. Okay, that was true.

"Eh, Quidditch rivalries," I said in a tone that I hoped would diminish my brother's sentence, even if the hexing had always been more over Regulus and Sirius than Quidditch. "He was on the Slytherin Quidditch team," I jerked my thumb towards him.

Harry smiled in a would-be understanding way. "We still have that rivalry, nowadays, too. I mean, I always want to get to the snitch first, but if Malfoy's the other seeker, there's no question. Sounds like it was something like that."

"I thought you were a chaser, Mr. Colburn?" Hermione gave him a quizzical look.

He seemed surprised to be addressed so politely and smoothly replied "I was. The seeker rivalry, as you call it, was between Potter and Regulus. I was just Regulus's friend." I flinched. I didn't want to be associated, even indirectly, with known Death Eaters any more than necessary.

"I didn't know Sirius's brother was a seeker," Harry replied, surprised. "Did the rivalry between them run deep?"

I shot Tarazet another warning glance, hoping he wouldn't aggravate Harry, but he still wasn't facing me. "Quite," he started, continuing in a tone of barely restrained hostility. "The one time Regulus captured the snitch first, Potter attacked him."

"The referee said they grabbed the snitch at the same time," I snapped, afraid of a larger argument breaking out. I remembered that match well; it was directly after Sirius had left home. Regulus and James Potter had taken to hexing each other if they were so much as in the same half of Hogwarts. The close proximities of the Quidditch field had been too much, and the long brewing fight had exploded.

I heard Tarazet bitterly say under his breath, "The ref always favored Gryffindor."

To his credit, though, he restrained himself from saying anything more, which gave me the opportunity to try and change the topic of conversation again. "So how are all of your classes going?"

"They've been going really well," Hermione said happily. Harry and Ron both gave her an incredulous look to which she replied, "Well I mean of course they're challenging, but that's what makes them fun."

" 'Challenging'?" Ron said incredulously in a rather high pitched voice. "_Just_ 'challenging'? Not, oh, I don't know, impossible?!"

"Yes, Ron, just challenging," the bushy-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you studied instead of playing Gobstones all the time."

"What?!—I don't---not all the—" Ron started indignantly.

"Oh, that reminds me," Hermione said brightly, ignoring the red-haired boy who was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "I've been reading the book you leant me, Professor Colburn. It's really interesting comparing your old Defense Against the Dark Arts book to our current one."

"That's good to hear," I smiled.

"Just ignore the cramped, blocky handwriting," Tarazet jumped in in a mostly neutral tone. I was glad he didn't know that Hermione was Muggleborn; something told me he wouldn't be nearly as pleasant to her if he knew.

"Why—?" she started, confused.

"That's Matar's handwriting. He was a rather poor student," Tarazet explained, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips, despite his generally annoyed demeanor.

"Matar is our second oldest brother," I clarified to Hermione. "And while you're at it, ignore the neat, cursive handwriting," I smiled mischievously.

"Hey!" Tarazet let out, mock offended. "That handwriting's mine."

Ron laughed. "Hand-me-down's are always fun. Mum didn't want Fred and George to have to share books, though, so I always had two books to chose between: the used-by-Weasleys book and the book that was bought used, so who knows whose handwriting it is. Sort of a gamble: who will be more useful?" and here he made the hand movement of judging a scale.

"I remember having to guess whose scrawled-in-the-margin notes would be the most useful, and the criteria I used. Like, let's see," I started ticking my fingers off, "Deneb's good for potions, Tarazet's good at Transfiguration and Charms, ignore Matar for everything, and ignore Seginus for almost everything. But his notes were six years old by the time I got them, anyway."

"That sounds like me," Ron smiled understandingly. "There's a ten year difference between Bill and me."

Meanwhile, my youngest brother was scowling. Not because of the (fairly accurate) characterization of my brothers, I was sure, but because I was pointing out similarities between our family and the Weasleys, who he saw as nothing more than blood traitors.

"Well, it's been great chatting with you again, Liseli," Hagrid made movements to stand up, "But I should get going. Fang gets whiney if he's not fed on time. Anyway, you should stop by some time!" and with a last wave he left with the three other Gryffindors.

"How much did you tell them about me?" Tarazet asked once they had left, although he was still suspiciously eyeing the door out of the corner of his eye.

"I overheard them talking once. They knew that I had brothers who were in Azkaban for being Death Eaters, and when they saw you I thought they might suspect you were one of them." I let my eyes glance at his sunken eye sockets and waxy skin, both symptoms of a long stay in Azkaban. "So, I told them that you had just finished your sentence for counterfeiting galleons, because that way they wouldn't think you were a Death Eater."

"Fine," he curtly replied. He let out an annoyed breath before adding with a slightly cheerful sigh, "They didn't seem to think I was one."

"No, they didn't," I said honestly, glad that Tarazet was enough of a Slytherin to hide his emotions and beliefs when necessary.

* * *

Confident that nobody suspected Tarazet was a Death Eater (save Severus, who already knew it for a fact) I was able to teach my classes without worrying what others might think of me associating with him; I was afraid not only of tarnishing my reputation, but also of people suspecting that I, myself, might be a Death Eater.

It was part way through the week when an owl I had never seen before brought me a letter. It actually had two letters with it, but when I tried to take both of them it pecked me angrily before walking a bit to my left and dropping the second envelope in front of Severus. I looked at him, curious, before I slowly opened the rather elegant looking envelope in my own hands. Inside there was a single sheet of stiff, embossed paper. The script on it was ludicrously embellished, to the point that it was practically impossible to read.

_Dear Miss Liseli Colburn,_ it read

_You are cordially invited to attend an End-of-Winter celebratory ball at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Thorfinn Rowle._

_Date: March 10, 1996._

_Time: 20:00_

_Dinner will be served. Formal attire is requested._

I frowned. I didn't know a Thorfinn Rowle, yet the letter was clearly addressed to me. I thought for a moment when it struck me that Thorfinn Rowle might be the husband of one of my Hogwarts friends. The name "Rowle" was starting to seem familiar, the more I concentrated. Had my Slytherin friend Persephone married a Rowle? I had not talked with her in a very long time, but it was quite possible the invitation was from her.

"What does yours say?" I curiously peered over Sev's shoulder, yet his card was completely blank.

He glanced at mine before replying, "They seem to be written in a type of ink that can only be read by the intended recipient."

"Odd, it doesn't seem to be particularly private information," I casually said. "Or at least mine isn't; it's just an invitation. I can't speak for yours, seeing as I haven't seen it."

"No, mine is also an invitation," he said distractedly. He was staring very intently at his (seemingly) blank card, clearly thinking. "This is very interesting," he started slowly. I gave him a questioning look. Whether or not he saw it, I don't know, but he continued either way, "Normally the Malfoys hold a ball at around this time of year, with the goal, of course, of building connections and setting a positive impression of themselves. With Lucius in prison, though, it seems as though Rowle is attempting to usurp Malfoy's influence." I had not known that the Malfoys held an annual ball, nor did I knew much about the dynamics of powerful pureblood families; I knew only of Deneb's poor imitations, as we had most certainly not grown up within that tier of society. Unsure of how to reply to Severus's musing, I simply nodded and turned my attention back to the eggs in front of me.

* * *

That afternoon I decided to pay my first visit to Hagrid's in a while, both to tear my mind away from thinking about the invitation and that uppermost tier of society, and to check that Hagrid's opinion of me had not been changed by meeting my brother. Upon approaching the wooden hut, I noticed his immense figure standing with Harry, Hermione and Ron near a small outdoor pen.

"Hullo," Hagrid cheerfully greeted me. "We're feeding Hogwarts flobberworms, wanna help?"

"Sure, why not," I shrugged and glanced at the bored expressions on the three students' faces; they seemed to be manually shredding the lettuce rather unenthusiastically, as a favor to Hagrid, I was sure. "Professor Colburn," Hermione suddenly greeted me, straightening up and leaving Ron and Harry to continue poking the flobberworms with small wads of lettuce. "I finished looking at your book. I didn't notice until your brother mentioned it at Hogsmeade, but he's right. The blocky handwriting did have wrong information written in the margins a lot."

I laughed, "Yeah, that's Matar for you. He even almost left Hogwarts after his sixth year."

Hermione looked surprised. "I'd never heard of someone failing out of Hogwarts before. I mean, Fred and George left intentionally, but I didn't know you could be expelled for poor grades."

"Well," I frowned slightly, thinking. "It wasn't that he was going to be expelled. It was that he wanted to drop out. He wanted to stay with Seginus, our eldest brother, and get a job. But our parents forced him to finish his last year."

"Oh, were they like Fred and George? Did they start a business together?" Ron brightly asked, also taking advantage of the distraction to no longer feed the flobberworms. I supposed that even though Ron and Hermione knew I had Death Eater brothers, they did not know how many siblings I had, nor which ones were followers of the Dark Lord.

"No, they didn't," I conversationally replied. "You know your potion ingredients and the materials used to make your wands? They worked for a company that collects those ingredients and sells them to distributors."

Hermione quickly replied, "You mean they collected dragon heartstrings, and materials like that?"

"Well, I doubt they collected dragon heartstrings," I said in a startled tone. "That seems like it would take a lot of skill, and be rather dangerous. I don't know the details, but I always imagined them more as collecting toad eyes or taking wood from holly tress." At that point I decided to move the topic off of my brothers before anybody asked what they were doing currently. Somehow, 'They're Death Eaters on the run from the law,' didn't seem like an acceptable career. "So what do your other brothers do, Ron?" I asked. "I've only ever heard about Fred and George."

"Bill works as a curse breaker for Gringotts. Charlie works with dragons," Ron replied distractedly. His eyes were flickering towards a flobberworm that seemed to sneezing up a green ball.

"You forgot Percy," Hermione quickly reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, that git," Ron frowned. "He works for the Ministry."

"Don't get along with him very well?" I casually asked, hoping I wasn't prying too much.

"The only thing he cares about is success. His career is more important to him than his family," the red-haired boy said bitterly.

"That sounds like my brother Deneb," I sympathized. Deneb also worked at the Ministry, and he had publicly disowned Tarazet, Seginus and Matar once they were arrested. Despite this, he still secretly kept in touch with them, convinced that you could never know when someone might be useful.

"Now the one at the Hog's Head was…Tarazet, right?" Hagrid asked. I nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this. "I thought you didn't get along with him very well?"

"I don't," I slowly said; I was still hesitant about associating myself with a former prisoner more than necessary. I honestly added, "He is my brother, though. I can't exactly ignore that and refuse to see him ever again."

"I wish Percy felt that way," Ron said in an annoyed tone, while looking at this shoes.

"Yeah," I gave him a sad smile. "There are an awful lot of times where I've wished that family dynamics were simple and straight forward."

Ron nodded and there was a pause in the conversation. "On a slightly cheerier topic," Hagrid started, "I was talking with McGonagall, and she said the school is thinking about throwing a ball."

Hermione groaned. "What for? It was unbearable enough listening to the girls in my dorm talk about Valentine's Day for a month straight."

Ron and Harry looked equally displeased at the concept of a ball, and Hagrid continued, "I think officially it's going to be for the Spring Solstice. Really, though, it's to try and distract from the surge in Death Eater attacks."

"It seems as though that's all the Daily Prophet reports anymore," Hermione said sadly.

There was a moment of sad silence before Harry suddenly said, "I think we got all of the flobberworms, Hagrid. I'm going to head back to the castle. I have an essay I should start." The other two thirds of the trio silently joined him, and I watched as they trudged back to the castle.

…

A/N: As a general heads up, school's starting for me soon, so updates will probably start coming a bit less frequently. On another note, a very, very big thank you to Leslie, Mark Darcy, PollyWantCookie, tibys, SomeOtherPerson, argyle owl and gothicflower for reviewing!


	25. The Rowles' Ball

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Rowles' Ball**

The tenth of March, the date of the Rowle's gala, approached quickly, and I was soon sitting in my quarters preparing the last touches on my formal garb. There was a knock and I opened the painting to find, somewhat unexpectedly, Sev standing there in his formal robes. I had to keep my heart from leaping into my throat. His dress robes were black, not unsurprisingly, but they were a different cut from his normal robe and I thought he looked quite dashing in them.

"You might want to bring a cloak," he drawled, eyeing my dark blue robes. "It's snowing outside, here at least."

It _had_ been unseasonably cool lately, but the snow still surprised me. I ironically replied, "Funny, and this is supposed to be an end-of-winter ball, too."

I was curious if that was the only reason he had stopped by, but I wanted to avoid saying anything that might make him leave. He soon added, though, "We might as well Floo together, considering we're leaving from and going to the same place."

We walked to a fireplace with some Floo powder and just before he stepped into the emerald flames he disinterestedly said, "By the way, in case you don't already know, Thorfinn Rowle is a Death Eater." And with that he was swallowed by the fire.

"Good to know," the empty room swallowed my words before I stepped into the fire.

When I stepped out of the fireplace, I was in a grand-looking room with a high ceiling. Besides the fireplace, a few decorations and a long queue of people the room was empty, and I thought it might be a room purely for Floo arrivals and departures, a foyer of sorts. I wasn't quite sure the purpose of the line, but Severus was also in it, so I silently took a place behind him. Everybody was wearing elegant, expensive-looking robes and talking in quiet, restrained voices; the whole thing was quite intimidating. Once the queue had progressed sufficiently, I saw that the host and hostess were greeting each guest individually. Thorfinn Rowle seemed to be an immense man with blond hair and a rather ugly face; I remembered him only vaguely from the wedding. Persephone Rowle, my friend from Hogwarts, stood next to him, gracefully greeting guest after guest. She was also blonde, but substantially shorter than her husband and with a more delicately carved face.

"Liseli!" she greeted me with a warm hug. "I haven't seen you in far too long. It's absolutely lovely that you could come. I know our humble abode isn't very much, but I hope you enjoy yourself here."

"It's very nice," I replied honestly, surprised that she could refer to such a large house as "humble" with a straight face. "I mean, trust me, you should see my place," I let out a small laugh but I noticed an annoyed look flit across Thorfinn's face; I seemed to have said the wrong thing.

Persephone started greeting another guest, just as Thorfinn turned towards me; I almost felt as though I was being moved through a production line. "Miss Colburn, it's wonderful seeing you again," he stated formally. The production line chugged forward and I was spat out into another room. This one had many large tables covered with appetizers and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. I looked around the room, feeling rather lost. Sev seemed to have been swallowed by the crowd, and besides him I knew almost nobody; I only vaguely recognized some of the parents of children I had tutored. I was standing awkwardly by the table, nibbling on a tomato and goat cheese appetizer, when a woman with white blonde hair also approached the table.

"Mrs. Malfoy," I greeted her in a tone that hopefully came off as friendly. "It's nice seeing you again," or rather, it's nice seeing somebody whose name I know. "I don't know if you remember me; I tutored your son for a few months."

"Oh, yes, Miss Colburn," she gave me a dignified smile. "Draco tells me you're teaching at Hogwarts, now."

"I am," I replied brightly, happy to have found a topic of conversation. "I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." _Oh wait,_ I thought, _Her husband's one of the Death Eaters in the Inner Circle. Damn, I probably shouldn't have said I teach _against_ Dark Magi_c. "Draco's one of my brightest students," I complimented her, hoping to distract from my possible faux pas.

"Draco speaks highly of you in his letters home," she returned the compliment; whether it was true or not, I had no clue. "It's awful that the teaching they've had in that subject is so sporadic. I still can't believe they had a werewolf, a _werewolf_ teach, there. It's horrid what Hogwarts is coming to these days."

"Yes, I heard about that," I said vaguely. What had been that professor's name again?

Mrs. Malfoy continued as though she had not heard me. "Last year they had Professor Umbridge, who Draco was rather partial to, but she had to return to her ministry work." That wasn't quite the story I had heard, but I nodded along, anyway.

"Liseli, I didn't you know you were coming," I heard a falsely cheery voice to my left and saw Deneb walking towards me with a sprig in his step. "Mrs. Malfoy, I believe?" he shook her hand. "Deneb Colburn, Liseli's brother. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied in a dignified voice.

He turned towards me again and energetically said, "I had forgotten you were friends with Persephone Gamp. No, Persephone Rowle, now. Silly me. I didn't know you two were still keeping in touch. You should have told me," he finished in a bright, innocent tone. I could practically see his mind working behind his restless eyes: the Rowles were, evidently, a powerful, influential family, and here I could serve as a connection to him. By his manipulative world view, I would be wonderfully useful.

"If you'll excuse me for just a minute," Malfoy said smoothly. She slid past the table and was quickly swallowed by the crowd. Deneb looked rather disappointed at the last opportunity of making a connection with another influential person.

"There you are, Deneb," his wife Marie-Ange walked up from behind him and put her arm around his rather pudgy waist as way of greeting. He looked at her with a rather disinterested look before a rehearsed one of love approached on his face. "I was just telling Mr. Dent about how highly you think of him."

"Who?" Deneb asked, clearly thinking.

"Mr. Dent. He said he works for the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"Dent, Dent," his eyes seemed to be searching the air in front of him, as though it would hold an explanation of who the man was. "I remember him now! He's one of the rising stars in that department."

"Exactly, honey," she pouter her painted lips. "I heard somebody standing nearby him say that, so I quickly joined the conversation."

"Ah, you're so clever, sweetie, trying to get me into Dent's good graces," he lovingly stroked her cheek. "Sometimes I think they sort too soon; you would have made a great Slytherin."

"But I'm a Hufflepuff, because I'm loyal only to you," she smiled broadly and put her arms around him.

I mentally gagged and wondered how to get away from the scheming couple. A dinner announcement soon rang through the room, though, and the production line ushered us into yet another room. This room had one very long table, with many settings and chairs around it. It seemed there was a seating chart, for there were small cards with individual's names written in calligraphy on each seat. Feeling rather stupid, I started walking up and down, looking for my name. I finally found it around the center of the very long table. I was sitting between a rather lumpy-looking witch who was talking to a squat wizard next to her and a frail-looking man with greying hair.

"I see you're called Liseli Colburn," the greying man pointed towards the caligraphied card. "I'm one of the managers at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. What do you do?"

"Uh, I'm a professor at Hogwarts," I replied, unsure how to handle myself in the face of his excessive self-importance.

"You teach at Hogwarts?" _That is what I just said_, I thought to myself. "You know, I really can't believe Hogwarts these days. It's completely going down the drain, ever since Dumbledore's become Headmaster. I heard there was a campaign to have him removed from that post and, personally, I'm all for it. I mean, it's just what's best for the students, don't you think?" He said this in a very business-like manner, snapping out each clearly articulated word.

"Mm," I made the most neutral sound I could, thinking it would be rude to tell him I thought rather highly of Dumbledore.

"I think the worst part is the huge increase in Muggle-born students while he's been Headmaster. Their parents don't pay taxes to the Ministry of Magic. We shouldn't have to pay so Muggles can get an education. We're literally throwing our money away on them! They have their own schools. They should use them. Don't you agree?"

"Mm," I replied neutrally again, pretending to focus my attention on the food which had just appeared.

He seemed to dislike my lack of enthusiastic agreement, for he turned towards his left and started repeating himself to the man who sat there. _Fine with me_, I thought, and started looking up and down the table. Persephone sat at one head of the table, and her husband at the other. Mrs. Malfoy was sitting relatively close to Persephone, and Sev to the host. Although Deneb and his wife were sitting around the center, like me, they were still too far away for us to talk. It occurred to me that the guests were probably seated in order of importance, with the more honored guests being closer to the host and hostess.

The rest of dinner passed rather uneventfully. The graying man to my left made a few more attempts at conversation but would always stop when I didn't start enthusiastically and mindlessly agreeing with him. After the meal the production line brought us to yet another large, grandly decorated room. This one had some small tables around the edges of the room and a large clearing in the middle. There were also several French doors out onto a large patio, which looked as though it led to a garden.

Couples started dancing in the middle of the room and music echoed from some unknown source. I sat at one of the tables and glumly started into space, bored and annoyed with the whole dynamic of the gathering. A witch I didn't recognize also sat at the tale and shortly introduced herself. I told her my name, and when she asked what I did I replied that I was a Hogwarts professor. She enthusiastically replied, "Oh, but of course! I've heard about you."

"Really?" I said, rather surprised. I doubted I was important enough for anybody outside of Hogwarts to have heard of me.

"Oh, yes," she continued. "I hear you're doing wonderful things with the classes there."

"Like what?" I said, puzzled. She almost phrased it as though I was revolutionizing the classroom. I liked to think that I wasn't a bad professor, but I didn't think I was doing anything dramatically better than the other professors.

"Well, uh, just that, I mean, I hear you're really helping those who are struggling to succeed," she regained her composure.

"That's nice," I replied vaguely, before suspiciously adding "Where'd you hear that from?"

"Um," she looked around indecisively. "Evan Rosier. His son goes to Hogwarts." I surveyed her suspiciously; there were no Rosiers in any of my classes. "But, I mean, not just from him of course," she nervously added at seeing my facial expression. "Actually, if you'll excuse me for a moment," and with that she hastily left the table.

_Merlin, I feel like I'm surrounded by dozens of Denebs. They're all so manipulative and self-centered, sucking up to everyone in the vicinity, thinking it might benefit them eventually_, I thought exasperatedly. _Speak of the devil, _I added as I saw Marie-Ange walking towards me.

"Have you seen my husband?" she asked me. "I just spent the last twenty minutes talking to a very important-looking wizard from the ministry; I have to tell him."

"No, I haven't," I said disinterestedly. "Sorry."

"Oh, alright," she replied before walking off to another part of the room and passing the group of people that was encircling Persephone; I knew my probability of being able to talk to my old Hogwarts friend was next to none at this event.

I stood up, and pushed my way through the French doors. The patio was a large and flat expanse of tile, with several steps down to a dirt path that lead into a garden. I sat down on one of the steps and looked up at the sky. I was sure if anyone saw me being this seemingly anti-social, Deneb would pretend he didn't know me, but I didn't care.

It was quite cold out, and silent except for the muted noise of the party. Between the dark clouds overhead I could see the glittering of a few stars, and I found the environment rather calming. I had been sitting there for at least a short period of time when I heard a familiar drawl, "Breaking out of the party's cookie-cutter shape, I see."

I looked up and felt a rush of relief at seeing Sev. Finally, someone who wasn't one of the party's manipulative phonies. "Eh, I don't know if I'm exactly one for these types of gatherings," I said casually. "I'm not really used to them."

"Oh?" He was still standing and I couldn't see his facial expression.

"I mean, you probably grew up around these types of events, and the whole wealthy pureblood culture. I didn't. And, I don't know, it just seems like there's something wrong with it, sometimes," I thought out loud.

"What makes you say I grew up around this type of culture?" he replied coolly.

"Oh, uh, I mean, didn't you?" I finished lamely, suddenly feeling guilty for stating my assumption aloud.

"No. I didn't," he said shortly, but thankfully he didn't sound annoyed.

"I was planning to walk around the garden. Do you want to come with?" I casually stood up. I had been planning no such thing, but I was hoping it would let me spend more time with Sev and help me avoid the ball a bit longer.

"I suppose I'll go with you," he drawled in a neutral tone. Most of the garden was dormant, due to the winter weather, and it was actually fairly boring to look at.

"So are you enjoying the party?" I tried to make conversation. I was starting to wish my robes had pockets; my fingers were getting rather cold.

"These types of events are all the same," he shrugged his shoulders. "They always try and invite high-ranking people, from the Ministry or elsewhere."

I had a feeling "or elsewhere" meant Death Eaters, but I felt I shouldn't clarify that out loud. Instead I asked, "Is that how you know the host?"

He nodded. "And you?"

"Persephone Rowle and I were friends when we were at Hogwarts. Well, in retrospect it seems more like we were acquaintances. We got along well, but we never really deeply cared about each other, per se. We drifted apart during my seventh year," I reflected rather sadly on my former friends.

"It's interesting how our definition of 'friend' changes," he mused, looking at the grey barks of the leafless trees. I vaguely remembered Severus-the-Seventh-Year prowling the corridors with a gang of other Slytherins, and I wondered if he would now consider them friends or just acquaintances.

"So what's your definition of a friend?" I asked, curious.

I couldn't fully see his facial expression. The garden was rather poorly lit, but he seemed to be thinking. "Someone who you truly care about, and someone who cares about you," he finally said.

I turned that definition over in my head before thinking aloud a bit more, "I agree with that definition, but it's sort of a lonely one, for me, at least. By that definition my only friend at Hogwarts was…Tarazet."

I thought he might react to my brother's name, but he seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts. Almost as though he had forgotten I was there, he slowly said, "I only had one friend when I was at Hogwarts, too."

Curious if it was one of his Slytherin acquaintances, I casually asked, "Anybody I know?"

"We stopped talking after our fifth year," he replied, as though he had only half heard my question. "She died in the First War."

"Oh." I felt a pang of sympathy for him, but I didn't want to say as much, lest it pull him from his reverie. "Was she…Muggle born?" I ventured cautiously, partly amazed that he was acting so open. An annoyed look crossed his face, and for a second I thought I had asked too personal of a question for him to answer. The look disappeared, though, and he silently gave a brief nod. I added, "I had a Muggle born friend—well, acquaintance, really--while I was at Hogwarts. Paige Collins. She stopped talking to me once Seginus and Matar were arrested for being Death Eaters. I don't even know if she's still alive."

"Most of my acquaintances are in Azkaban," he replied quietly.

We both gazed up at the few visible stars as I mentally went through a list of my Hogwarts friends. Persephone Rowle: alive and well. Paige Collins, the Ravenclaw Muggle born: no clue. Regulus: dead for sixteen years. Tarazet: a bit worse for the wear, because of his prison sentence, but comparatively well.

"How much longer do you think the gala's going to last?" I asked once I had finished the list.

"A while longer. I'm guessing you're planning on leaving soon?" We were both looking at the sky still, not facing each other.

I hastily replied, "Well, I like it out here," _especially with you_, my mind added, and I felt myself blush slightly. "I just…don't like the general atmosphere indoors."

"I don't blame you," he said neutrally.

We were both quiet for a moment, before somebody a ways behind us yelled "Snape, is that you?" We simultaneously turned around to see the massive form of Thorfinn Rowle approaching us. "There you are," he said jovially. "The man of the hour. Which is about how long I've been looking for you," he laughed in a fake sounding way. "I've been wanting to talk with you about, ah, business issues. In private," he added as his eyes flickered towards me. I had a feeling "business issues" translated to 'Rowle sucking up to a member of the Death Eaters' Inner Circle in an attempt to gain favor with the Dark Lord.'

I made to walk away when Sev said, rather unexpectedly, "Actually, we were just about to go back to Hogwarts." _We were?_ I thought to myself, just as he added, "There's a meeting early tomorrow morning that we must prepare for." Now that was most definitely a lie. I vaguely wondered whether Sev was doing me a favor, or whether he just disliked the party's atmosphere as much as I did.

"Ah, those slave drivers," Rowle replied in a would-be joking tone, but it was clear he was annoyed at his lost opportunity.

We flooed back to Hogwarts, where neither of us mentioned Sev's concocted excuse for leaving; I was happy just to be away from the ball.

…

A/N: So the school year has officially started for me. I hate to say this, but I'm going to have to slow down the rate of updates; updates should now be coming as one chapter every one to two weeks. Don't worry, though, I already have all of the events plotted out, so I'm definitely not going to be abandoning this story, even if I have to update a bit less frequently. I also may or may not be able to do review responses anymore, but if you ask me a specific question in a review, I will answer it. On a slightly cheerier note, thanks so much to PollyWantCookie, tibys, argyle owl and angelofire for reviewing, and thank you to everybody who's reading! I really appreciate every single review!


	26. The Hogwarts Ball

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Hogwarts Ball**

The Hogwarts Spring Solstice Ball was about two weeks later, but even before it happened I knew it would be more enjoyable than the Rowles'. The Hogwarts decorations, for instance, were not expensive-looking antiques that screamed "wealthy pureblood for generations." They were instead garlands of flowers, vines which covered the walls and trees which practically brushed the ceiling. Needless to say, Hogwarts stuck to the "Beginning of Spring" theme much better than the Rowles had, even if it was still relatively brown and grey outdoors.

I found it rather amusing to watch the students come in to the Great Hall the night of the ball, some awed by the decorations, some eyeing their date nervously, others awkwardly gathered around the small circular tables, trying to decide where they should sit. The professors had their own table, thankfully, and I immediately sat to Professor Sprout's left, glad I didn't have to wonder where to sit like the students did. It occurred to me that some of the professors may have brought their spouses with them, so maybe the seating order would be different, but I ignored that. I vaguely wondered if any of the professors were married, before a second thought occurred to me: what if some of the professors brought dates? With a sinking feeling, my mind added: what if Severus brought a date? No, I wouldn't contemplate that possibility. _If he was going to bring a date, he should have brought you,_ my mind thought of its own volition, and I felt myself blush. Thankfully, the heat had faded from my cheeks by the time he sat in the chair to my left. _I will not let him realize I'm in love with him, I will not let him realize I'm in love with him,_ I thought to myself determinedly, and specifically avoided looking at him. I did notice out of the corner of my eye, though, that he was wearing the same dress robes he had at the Rowles' gala. _Good to know I'm not the only one with only one set of dress robes,_ I thought as I turned to Sprout and started a conversation.

Even though the food was better than the Rowles', and the environment infinitely more enjoyable, I still found myself starting to become bored. After all, watching my students trip over their feet or step on their partners toes as they tried to dance could only be amusing for so long. Most of the professors had already left for the dance floor with other professors, and if they returned it was only momentarily. Although I liked dancing, a stubborn corner of my brain kept repeating, _Well if I can't dance with Sev, I don't want to dance at all_. I thought this while, of course, refusing to so much as glance in his general direction, lest I give some hint away of my thoughts. The Potions Master was the only professor besides me to remain glued to their seat, although I imagined his reasons were very different from mine. Probably something along the lines of considering himself too dignified to dance in front of students.

I was staring into space when I saw a certain bushy-haired sixth year approaching. "Hello, Hermione," I replied to her greeting. "You're welcome to take a seat if you want. I don't think Professor Sprout's going to be back any time." She slumped down in the seat and let out an exasperated sigh. "Where's Harry and Ron?" I asked, curious but at the same time not wanting to pry.

"I don't know," she huffed. "Ron's probably with his _date_." She seemed to have been saving an extra dose of scorn for the last word. "Boys…"

"Boys or just one boy?" I asked, looking to see how she would react.

An embarrassed look crossed her face, but instead of replying to my question she sighed, "You're so lucky you don't have to deal with this anymore."

I had to keep myself from bursting into laughter, and I chanced a glance at Severus out of the corner of my eye; I couldn't tell if he was listening to our conversation or not. "Well, someday you'll be my age," I told Hermione with a laugh.

"I suppose," she half-smiled.

I saw Dumbledore coming back towards the table from the dance floor, but I didn't pay any attention to it until I realized he was walking towards Hermione, Sev and I.

"Hello," he pleasantly greeted us. "Gravity seems to be particularly heavy in this section of the table, no? I don't think I've seen either of you on the dance floor once," he nodded towards Sev and me with a mischievous smile on his face. "The professors aren't setting a very good example for the students. Shouldn't we all be trying to enjoy ourselves when we can, especially in these dark times?" Sev and I were both cautiously regarding him, wondering where he might be going with this.

"I appreciate your concern, Dumbledore," the Potions Master said coolly. "But I'm perfectly fine right here, thank you."

"Are you really going to let a young lady like Liseli sit the entire night without a single dance?" the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I felt just about every ounce of blood in my entire body rush up to my face. "That's really not necessary," I hastily spluttered. "I like sitting. It's great here."

"Ah, but I insist," Dumbledore said merrily. Hermione, sitting to my right, looked as though she was about to explode any second from restraining her laughter.

After what looked like a staring contest between the Potions Master and the Headmaster, the former stiffly stood up. I took that as my cue to also stand up and heard Hermione say with a terribly amused smile on her face, "Have fun…"

I followed him to the corner of the dance floor, and expectantly raised my hands into a generic dance position. He hesitatingly clasped my right hand in his left and, almost as though he was a marionette being commanded what to do, jerkily placed his right hand on my waist, so lightly I could barely feel his fingertips through the fabric of my robes. He haltingly started the steps of the waltz that the music demanded, awkwardly leading me through the three-step square. I had never officially learned how to dance, but Regulus and Persephone had both taught me a bit while I was at Hogwarts. They both came from proper, wealthy pureblooded families and had thus been taught ballroom dancing as a part of being integrated into that upper class culture. Even though I was only adequate at pre-learned dance steps, I knew enough to tell that Sev was a far poorer dancer; he was only able to lead me through simple steps and, even then, he was using the wrong grip. The three-beat waltz slowly died away and a more upbeat song, a sort of swing piece, started echoing throughout the large hall. I expectantly looked at Sev, who had stopped stepping, and after a moment he said with a rather drawn look on his face, "I think I'm done dancing."

"Aw, come on, one more song," I teasingly pleaded, forgetting for a moment my resolution to show no signs that I liked him.

After a hint of an annoyed sigh, he coolly replied, "You'll have to find another partner. I'm afraid I never learned the steps to this sort of dance."

A slight smile broke across my face, and I felt a rush of affection for him. Judging from what he had said at the Rowle's ball, combined with what he had just said, it was clear that he, like me, had not grown up as a member of a proper, wealthy pureblood family. "And here I thought you were a pureblood," I teased, almost giggling at the idea that blood could be defined by culture alone; I was sure that he, like me, would appreciate the ridiculousness of such a statement, even more so because I was sure we had both been unfairly judged with such assumptions before and it would be a similarity that we could bond over. My well intentioned sentence horribly backfired, though, for as soon as the last word had left my mouth, a distinctly hurt look appeared on his face. I had never seen him wearing such an expression before, and the fact that I was the cause of it made it feel as though I had been run through by a dagger. "Wait—I didn't mean it like that," I immediately blurt out, desperately thinking how to remedy the hole I seemed to have dug myself into. "I just mean—no, I'm like that, too. I mean, my family wasn't the proper, wealthy sort of pureblood family. I didn't mean it as an insult," I practically pleaded, too embarrassed to look him fully in the eyes. "I meant it as 'Look we're both purebloods, but neither of us are the proper sort of purebloods. But that doesn't matter, because the ancient, wealthy pureblood families who look down on us for that are being ridiculous.' Ha…ha…" I feebly laughed, hopefully scouring his now-masked facial expression for any signs that he was no longer angered or hurt by my idiotic, poorly thought out comment.

The mask moved for a second. "I'm not a—" he started, before abruptly cutting himself off as a large Slytherin seventh year accidentally bumped against us.

"Not what?" I breathlessly asked, almost afraid of what he might reply with.

A moment of hesitation, a resigned sigh, and then— "Not offended. I'm not offended."

I was too relieved to contemplate whether that was what he had originally been planning to say. "Tell you what, how about I teach you some of the basic swing steps?" I suggested with a weak smile. Sev blinked at me with a rather disinterested, almost uncomprehending facial expression, before I grabbed his hands. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"You're going to be the lead?" he doubtfully raised a single eyebrow as he glanced at how I was holding his hands; my hands were in the position characteristic of the lead's.

"How else am I supposed to teach you the steps? Do you have a problem with a woman being lead?" I playfully smirked, while carefully watching his reaction.

"I suppose not," he slowly drawled.

"Excellent," I gave him a genuine smile, before attempting to start the dance and instead stepping on his foot. "You know, when I push on your hands that's your cue to take a step back, not stand there like a rock," I pointedly told him, repressing an amused grin.

"Really? I thought perhaps your method of teaching was to step on my foot each time it was supposed to move," he sarcastically articulated.

"Tsk, tsk, what sort of professor would I be if I taught my students through punishment alone? Oh wait, it'd be like your potions class," I teased.

The corners of his mouth turned up almost proudly for a flash of a second before he replied, "While normally I'd argue that punishments are the most effective method of instructing students, tonight I think I'll take the stance that results with my feet receiving as few bruises as possible."

I let out a ringing laugh and started gently steering him towards the proper dance steps. "Yes, well, I imagine that teaching dance moves is rather different from instructing a potions class. From what I've gathered, you're a rather more successful teacher than Slughorn was."

"Slughorn never distributed any helpful criticism to the students," the current Potions Master dryly stated. "It was impossible to learn in that class, even ignoring his blatant favoritism for certain students."

"Speaking of criticism, stop taking such large steps; the steps in swing are smaller than those in the waltz," I distractedly threw out before returning from my tangent, "But, yes, I know what you mean about Slughorn. I remember the Slug Club meetings well."

"You almost phrase it as though you were a member of the Slug Club," he disinterestedly responded while glancing at his feet, as though unsure if they were still attached to the ends of his legs.

I shook my head. "I wasn't in the Slug Club. Regulus and Deneb were, but not me." With that, the conversation seemed to have reached a dead end, and I turned my attention back to the location of my feet. We were still stepping to the swing beat of the music, but the steps were slowly becoming less awkward and more fluid, as we continued practicing them.

When the ball finally finished, I walked back to my quarters, the blaring of the swing band still in my ears, the pulse of the music still in my blood, and the ghost of Severus's hands still against mine. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight seemed to be infinite.

…

A/N: A very big thank you to angelofire, Mark Darcy, tibys, PollyWantCookie, Leslie and argyle owl for reviewing! Thanks for waiting so patiently for the update, and the next chapter should be a bit longer than this one.

To Leslie: Using Evan Rosier's name was supposed to be a clue of sorts; I was trying to show that the woman was inventing the compliments for what she had heard about Liseli's teaching.


	27. A Birthday Celebration

_**One Day at a Time**_

**A Birthday Celebration**

About a week and a half later, all talk of the ball and all of the decorations for it had finally disappeared. The green decorations in the hall had become unnecessary, anyway, with the gradual return of greenery on the grounds. I was thinking this during breakfast one day in early April when the arrival of an owl interrupted my thoughts. It was holding two small, wrapped packages. The first one contained a small card and a bracelet wrapped in tissue paper. The front of the card had Deneb's salutations, and the back carried brief instructions for the bracelet: "Touch the garment you're wearing with your wand, then immediately touch the bracelet and voila! The bracelet will become perfectly coordinated."

"That's a pretty bracelet" Sprout peered over, curiously looking at the opened package. "Any special occasion, or did you just order it by owl?"

"No, I wouldn't order this. I never wear jewelry," I explained "One of my brothers sent it to me as a birthday gift."

"Why didn't you tell me that today's your birthday!" she exclaimed. "I would have gotten you something, a card or a cake, at least."

"Oh, that's really not necessary," I said bashfully before returning my attention to the other package in front of me. This one was a small but thick book with miniscule typeset; I recognized the title as one that I had been wanting to read. When I opened it a card in Tarazet's neat cursive handwriting wished me a happy birthday and explained, "I know how much we both hate infinitesimally small font, but no worries—the book has a shrinking charm which should wear off in a couple of hours. I didn't want to accidentally kill Deneb's owl with the weight of the book." I laughed and, tucking the packages beneath my arm, left for class in a rather good mood.

I hadn't expected Sprout's promise to do something for my birthday to actually come to fruition, but in the evening she excitedly found me.

"Come with me," she enthusiastically smiled. I acquiesced and we walked to the entrance hall, where a small group of professors were standing. "I gathered all of your professor friends," the Hufflepuff professor beamed. "We're going to Hogsmeade to celebrate your birthday."

"You didn't have to do this," I said embarrassedly, feeling rather flattered. "But thank you." Severus and McGonagall walked at the head of the group, followed by Flitwick with Hagrid, and Sprout and I chatting in the back. "It's really nice of you to have planned this," I said cheerfully.

"Of course I had to do something," she smiled. "This is the best I could do on short notice. But, after all, what's better than spending the evening with some friends?"

"Most definitely," I replied, eyeing Sev a ways away at the head of the group. "Out of curiosity, how did you know that Severus and I were friends?" I had considered us friends for some time now, but I always thought it was an example of excessive hopefulness on my part.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" she chuckled. "You two are always so friendly with each other."

"Really?" I said, honestly surprised. "Severus is always a bit cool towards me."

"That's just the way he always conducts himself," she shrugged her shoulders. "I'd say that with the exception of Dumbledore, you're the person he talks to most."

I felt a burst of joy at hearing this and had to restrain myself from immediately smiling broadly. "Professors, on a school night?" Madame Rosmerta grinned as we all walked into the Three Broomsticks.

Sprout laughed, "Just don't tell the students. They're probably all studying for their O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T's. right now."

"Tests which _we _will be writing and grading," McGonagall said pointedly, but she seemed to nevertheless be in a good mood.

"So what's your reason for being here, you troublemakers?" Rosmerta joked. "Just can't take the students anymore? They've finally made their professors crack?"

"I think if we survived the Weasley twins, we can survive anything," Flitwick squeaked cheerfully.

"Today's Liseli's birthday," Sprout explained happily to the barmaid.

"Ah, that's nice," she smiled pleasantly. "A year older."

"You're getting to be an old lady," Hagrid joked, clapping a hand on my back. "Why, you're over half my age, now."

We continued joking (except for Sev, who was too serious for such light-hearted teasing) and chattering about light topics. When we left the streets of Hogsmeade were lit up, in spite of the worry of Death Eater attacks, and the village looked rather charming.

"I just remembered something," I exclaimed as my eyes glanced at the lit storefronts. "I have an errand to run in Hogsmeade. You guys can go on," I added; they were a few steps ahead of me as I had stopped walking when the thought struck me.

"Are you sure?" Hagrid asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," I replied.

"But it's not safe to walk alone in Hogsmeade in these dark times," Sprout said with a look of concern on her face.

"I'll stay," Severus said shortly.

The other professors hesitated, as though feeling it would be more polite for them to all stay. They finally acquiesced and once they had left I turned towards Sev and pointedly said, "You of all people should know I'm not afraid of Death Eater attacks."

"No. You don't seem to be afraid of much," he responded in his characteristic ambiguous tone; I couldn't tell whether he meant it seriously or sarcastically.

I teased back in what I hoped was an equally ambiguous manner, "Well, I'm sure you'll be the only person to ever see a boggart in its true form; it won't have anything to turn into."

"I've heard it said that when the wise face a boggart it becomes a dementor—because the wise are only afraid of fear itself," he said almost conversationally, looking at me as though curious how I would react.

"Hm," I said skeptically before hesitatingly adding, "I don't quite agree with that."

"No, I don't either," he regarded me with an approving look. "For one, only the foolish believe that fear itself is the worst thing to be feared. For another, Dementors spread unhappiness more than they spread fear."

I nodded. "Dementors make people recall their worst memories. There's little to be afraid of in the past. Fear is what you feel when something bad or unexpected is about to happen, not what you feel after it happens," I continued the thought that Sev had started. "You know," I mused aloud, "I had a friend at Hogwarts who argued that somebody's worst memory is the singularly most revealing angle with which to see them. I was never sure if I agreed with her."

"What does yours show about you?" he asked disinterestedly.

Such a question felt awfully personal, and my first reflex was to say in an annoyed tone "I don't know." But then I looked at his face again and remembered this was the man I loved, and even though it may have been unreciprocated, I got a sudden urge to tell the truth. "Nothing good," I finally replied lamely. His glance quickly shifted from the streets of Hogsmeade to my face, and he almost looked surprised that I had actually answered his question. My mouth continued, "I did something which wasn't very nice, right before Tarazet went to Azkaban." Severus nodded to acknowledge that he had heard me, but didn't press for details; I knew he would respect my silence. "You aren't going to answer your own question?"

He seemed to be surprised at being asked the question, and after a moment of hesitation and looking at me, the words struggled from his lips, "Same. Only it was something I said to a friend when I was fifth year." I respected his further silence, as he had respected mine. "We're going to Honey Dukes?" he added, mildly puzzled, when I turned into that shop's doorway. "This is your errand?" he said skeptically.

"My fifth years just reached curse detection and counter curses, so I thought I'd give them cursed chocolate frogs like I did to my sixth and seventh years at the beginning of the year," I replied, actually not annoyed by his comment.

I quickly found the chocolate frogs and brought a large box up to the cashier. "I remember you," the cashier grinned. "You ought a bunch of chocolate frogs the last time you were here, too. Chocoholic, or avid card collector?"

I laughed, "Neither. I'm using them for one of my lesson plans."

"Oh, are you a professor at Hogwarts?" he asked in a friendly tone, and I nodded. "Man, I wish my professors had used candy in their lesson plans. What do you teach?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts," I cheerfully replied.

"Ouch, I heard things haven't ended too well for a lot of those professors," he said in a light-hearted tone.

"I'm still alive and in good health, so I think things are going pretty well," I said happily.

"Are you a professor, too?" the cashier turned to Severus.

"Yes. I am the potions master," he replied smoothly.

"You must be the man who replaced Slughorn a while ago, that fat old snail. I haven't seen you before, but I gotta say, if you start using candy in your class, too, the students will definitely pay more attention," he grinned.

"That or the students will be dead, because of contamination from all of the poisonous ingredients kept and used in the dungeons," he replied coldly.

"Or that," he said in a less friendly tone, and he handed me the chocolate frogs in a bag.

On the walk back to Hogwarts, Severus eyed the bag and asked, with a frown on his face, "So I suppose I'm going to be brewing the antidote for the 'Aegrus Venter' curse soon?"

I let out a sheepish laugh, "I was assuming that I was going to make it on my own."

"Have you made it before?" he asked in a rather business-like manner.

"Well, no, but, I mean, I'll be able to find the recipe in the library I'm sure," I confidently replied.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "It's a rather difficult concoction. It would turn out better if I brew it for you."

"You don't have to do that," I embarrassedly said, not wanting him to think I couldn't be self-reliant.

He briefly shook his head and replied in a final-sounding tone, "I'll do it tonight."

I sheepishly thanked him before we reached the castle, at which point we split off: him towards his potions classroom, me towards my room. The small confines of my quarters seemed artificially silent as I sighed and took to unwrapping and cursing the individual chocolate frogs. _I wonder what Sev's doing right now,_ I distractedly thought, ripping the packing off of a particularly stubborn one. _He's probably already set up the black, iron cauldron on a sturdy stand, and lit the crackling blue fire underneath it. _I visualized the scene and the large grey cinderblocks of the potions classroom as I continued my repetitive movements. _He's probably setting up his ingredients, now. The pickled flobberworms arranged in an orderly rectangle, careful to not touch the purple Gila Monster scales, and the orange blossoms of the Pluto Weed next, ready to be crushed into a fragrant powder. _I sighed again as I glanced around at my empty room and the stack of chocolate frogs left to be cursed. He was doing me an awfully large favor, by brewing the potion. The least I could do was go down and thank him, right? Offer to help him? Besides, I'd never made the potion before; maybe I'd learn something.

I strode towards the potions classroom, and quietly opened the door. Severus stood at an angle, his eyes carefully focused on the contents of the cauldron in front of him. He mouthed something as he began stirring it with his wand, and leaned forward to gain a better angle. His black hair fell forward as he did so and masked his profile from my line of sight; I got the urge to walk over and carefully tuck the offending strands of hair behind his ear, but resisted the temptation. A smile formed on my face as I watched him carefully tend the potion and add ingredients without once removing his gaze from the bubbling liquid. He seemed rather oblivious to my presence, even as he shifted his gaze from the cauldron to an adjacent cutting board. With a wave of his wand, a knife from the other side of the room slowly levitated towards him, while he arranged what looked like dried squid tentacles on the surface of the clean black cutting board. After placing them in symmetrical lines, he glanced up at the patiently hovering blade and murmured in a barely audible voice, "Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?" before grabbing said handle. He began dicing the squid tentacles while rotating the cutting board with his other hand and making rather complicated patterns.

With a slight smile on my face, I casually leaned against the doorframe and broke the silence, "Why did you call it a dagger?"

He glanced in my direction with a mildly surprised look before turning back to the cutting board. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I thought I should offer to help, as thanks," I shrugged my shoulders while stepping into the actual classroom. "So why'd you call it a dagger?"

A slight furrow creased his brow, from annoyance or from concentrating on the dicing, I couldn't tell. "It's a quote."

"Oh, from where?" I light-heartedly asked.

The furrow across his forehead became deeper. "From a play."

"Which play?" I cheerfully pushed.

In an annoyed exhalation he replied, "I doubt you've heard of it."

"Try me," I spitefully grinned.

Sev stopped cutting the squid and turned towards me, drumming his fingers on the wooden hilt of his knife as he surveyed my face. "It's called Macbeth, by William Shakespeare," he finally responded.

I curiously tilted my head, and tapped my index finger against my jaw while I silently reflected. "Macbeth? I think I have heard of that."

"I doubt it," he scoffed, and brushed the oddly shaped pieces of squid tentacle into the cauldron. "It's a Muggle play."

"No, I know," I continued with the same thoughtful expression on my face. "My Muggle-born friend Paige Collins gave it to me as a gift one year when I was a student. I think she was hoping I'd read it and take away some lesson about Slytherin ambition. She was a Ravenclaw."

The Potions Master was now crushing several small red spheres with the broad side of the blade, and I vaguely wondered if the small red spheres were a plant or animal product. "It was a friend who recommended it to me, also," he slowly stated. "I never thought about why she did. I think she just enjoyed Muggle literature." I nodded to acknowledge his words before he continued in an almost scholarly voice, "What did you think of Lady Macbeth?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, crossing my arms due to the rather chilly weather in the dungeons, before uncrossing them a moment later to pick up one of the small red spheres that was rolling away; I placed it back on the cutting board and noticed that just touching it had stained my fingertips a bright red.

"She convinces her husband to murder for power, aids him in dispensing of evidence, and spends the rest of the play hallucinating that she has blood on her hands. That is, before committing suicide at the close of the play. She's a rather interesting character, don't you think?" he drawled as he flicked a few drops of the red liquid into the cauldron.

"I find it ironic she doesn't follow her own advice," I finally stated. "She tells Macbeth to not think of the murder he just carried out, or else he'll go mad. Then she turns around and does the exact opposite. I remember her quote very well. I—I think of it a lot. You can't think about the murders you've committed, or you'll go mad. It's really—it's really rather sound advice," I sadly stated, concentrating my attention on the small red sphere he was now crushing.

He paused in his crushing motion for a second before resuming. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I also wonder sometimes how much she, in a Muggle play, can actually relate to the Wizarding world." I took a step closer to the work bench Sev was at and continued in a quiet, guilt-tinged voice, "I mean, you and I both know that—that _Avada Kedavra_ doesn't leave blood."

He stopped midway through adding more of the red juice to the cauldron and quietly replied, "No, no it doesn't. But there are many ways to kill someone without leaving blood. Just a few words spoken to the wrong person, and somebody you care about could die without you ever intending it," he spoke in a barely audible whisper. I didn't understand what he was referencing, or if I was supposed to understand, so instead I quietly nodded. The bubbling cauldron lay almost forgotten as he spoke again, this time slightly louder and directed to me. "Did you ever wonder what would happen if Macbeth and Lady Macbeth felt guilt at the same time? At the beginning, only Macbeth feels miserable with guilt, and at the end only Lady Macbeth does. The rest of the play they separately follow a self-absorbed path into their own destruction. What do you think would have happened if they both felt guilty together?"

I tilted my head and curiously gazed at him, unsure what to say as I had never considered that angle before. "I think Shakespeare wouldn't have written that, because he needed them to both die at the end. It needed to be a tragedy."

"But what if it wasn't a story?" he neutrally retorted.

I took my chin in my hand as I continued thinking, "You mean if they were real people? Like us?"

He slowly nodded. "Yes. Exactly like us."

I looked at him, standing in front of me, facing me, but with one hand still on the cutting board he had been working at. A few small red spheres rested by the side, waiting to be crushed, while the liquid from the previous ones had stained the cutting board and the Potions Master's fingers a bright red. "I think that sharing their guilt would have eliminated the haunting element from it. I don't think they would have gone mad. I think they could have even achieved happiness someday," I finally replied.

Sev gave me that odd look he had given me a few times previous, as he returned his attention to the potion. He swallowed and replied in a voice so quiet, I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to hear what he said or not. "I think they could have been happy, too."

…

A/N: The Lady Macbeth quote Liseli references is, 'These deeds must not be thought/After these ways; so, it will make us mad.' Anyways, a huge thank you to Mark Darcy, tibys, PollyWantCookie and angelofire for reviewing! I find reviews very inspiring, so I really appreciate it when you review.


	28. A Downright Family Reunion

_**One Day at a Time**_

**A Downright Family Reunion**

It was a warm spring night, and the stars twinkled merrily overhead. The only weather that would have been in more contrast to my mood would have been if it was daytime and cheerfully sunny. As it was, I was thankful for the cover of night as I tried to walk surreptitiously to apparate to the Death Eater gathering. I hadn't set foot in Hogsmeade for a few weeks, since I was there to purchase the chocolate frogs for my class, and the light from the store fronts now seemed potentially incriminating instead of cheerful. I walked fully through Hogsmeade, and once I had reached a quiet, unlit dirt road I touched my Dark Mark.

I reappeared in a dark alley, as to be expected; dark alleys were almost always our meeting spot. I noticed that our regiment seemed to be a few people smaller than last time, but the commander paid no attention to the arrests that were no doubt the cause of our depleted numbers. He loudly started an introduction to the summons, "We're here to attack a collection of wizarding shops. It's nowhere as near as large as Diagon Alley, but it's one of the known shopping streets in Manchester. We'll be coming from one end, and another regiment will be sweeping in the other way. We're expecting trouble in the form of aurors, so don't get cocky."

We swept into the well lit street, one that reminded me rather too much of Hogsmeade for my taste. The commander set off a loud _bang!_ with his wand and, as if it was a response, another _bang!_ echoed from the other end of the street. Screams immediately broke out and people started running every which way, some grabbing onto loved ones, some ducking into shops, others running out of shops, and yet others simply running aimlessly, as though too terrified to think clearly. Most of my regiment set about attacking or torturing the wizards and witches unfortunate enough to be present. A few duals started, but most were too afraid to fight back, and those that did were quickly overpowered by the larger number of attacking Death Eaters. Not wanting to attack actual people if avoidable, I sent hexes towards the shops to break their windows, lending the street a more chaotic, terrorized appearance without actually causing any harm. There was little resistance and we quickly swept through the street and spread out. We had just met the other regiment at the halfway point, when suddenly many hexes started flying in our direction.

"Aurors!" I heard a Death Eater cry in a fearful voice, just as a wizard on the street yelled the same word, only in a joyous, hopeful tone.

I glanced in the general direction of the commotion and realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn't just aurors, it was the Order of the Phoenix, which was generally regarded as better trained than the Ministry's aurors. I continued attacking the buildings while watching the ongoing duals out of the corner of my eye to make sure they were a safe distance away. To my dismay, I saw the Death Eater to my left fall from some disabling curse and the wizard who had been fighting him rush in my direction. I set off a stunning spell as I whirled in his direction, and I almost gasped when I saw who the wizard was. I was about to engage in a dual with none other than Remus Lupin. He easily reflected the stunning spell, and quickly sent a beam of red light in my direction that I shielded. I had a rather sick feeling in my stomach at having to dual somebody who I not only knew, but somebody who I knew from my Hogwarts years to be a relatively pleasant person. If I had to use an Unforgivable on him…I couldn't finish my thought, and I glanced over my shoulder to see where my commander was, to see if I would be able to use harmless curses the entire time. In that instant though, a stinging hex from Lupin smacked into my right arm, and almost made me drop my wand. Another Death Eater quickly joined my side and sent a curse towards Lupin while I lifted my wand again.

We started simultaneously sending curses at the auror, not timing our attacks, not talking with each other, but simply attacking as though we were both alone in the dual. Despite all of the emotions worming their way around my stomach, I couldn't help but notice that Lupin was an extremely talented dualist; he was easily holding off the both of us, and the Death Eater next to me seemed to be becoming more and more frustrated.

One of my hexes finally hit Lupin. With the break in his spell casting, the Death Eater next to me yelled "_Sectumsempra!_" and the slow-moving spell easily made contact with the Order of the Phoenix member. I felt my blood freeze, but not because of the sight of Lupin's blood. I felt as though the word "Sectumsempra" was hanging in the air, as though I could hear it reverberating in my ears. The voice that said it…I would recognize that voice anywhere. I looked at the Death Eater next to me with wide eyes. He was very tall, and even through the loose fitting Death Eater robes, I could tell he was skeletally thin. I was too shocked at realizing that I was standing next to my brother Tarazet to pay attention to the dual, and the immobilizing curse that hit me felt like a bag of bricks to the chest. Only a second later, the magnified call for retreat rang out and I felt a surge of terror at the prospect that I might be left on the street immobilized, to be taken to Azkaban. _No, no, no, no,_ I thought frantically, _my reputation, my life, my everything. _Tarazet, thankfully, seemed to be a well-trained Death Eater, for he grabbed onto my arm with lightning speed before he apparated from the street.

After the second of limbo where I was no longer on the cobblestone street, I landed with a thud on a grassy hill, and I saw him almost lose his balance, clearly not used to apparating somebody that could not move. Any doubt that the masked, hooded Death Eater was Tarazet disappeared: he had apparated us to the hill behind Mother and Father's house. _Rather foolish_ _to apparate somewhere so identifiable_, I thought, before realizing I wasn't really in a position to be calling anybody a fool. The thin figure I knew to be my brother approached my still form and with a wave of his wand cast the countercurse. I got to my feet and politely nodded, saying "Thank you." Tarazet froze and I had to keep from gasping aloud in horror and clapping my hands to my mouth. _No! Why did I say anything aloud?!_ my horrified thoughts frantically raced through my mind. _I couldn't have done a stupider thing! If I can recognize his voice, he can undoubtedly recognize mine! _A breeze blew through the cold night air and I realized with a further pang of horror that my hood had fallen off when I stood up, revealing my long, braided chestnut hair. I couldn't see my brother's face beneath his Death Eater mask, but I could imagine it as easily as if the mask was transparent: his bulging blue eyes trying to take in every detail of the Death Eater who was standing in front of him, surveying my height, my frame, the way I stood, my hair whose color was identical to his, to try and grasp if this Death Eater was really his sister. I was sure his mouth was slightly ajar, shocked, too shocked to say anything, but also afraid to say anything aloud lest he somehow be mistaken, an impossible feat because he had seen me thousands, millions of times, even if he had never seen me wearing the Death Eater uniform before. Horrified that another person had discovered my well-guarded secret, and unsure what to do, I immediately turned on my heel and apparted back to Hogsmeade.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast I received an express owl from the post office, and dreading what the attached letter might say, I very slowly unraveled the piece of parchment.

_Liseli,_

_I want to talk to you. Lunch again? ASAP, preferably._

_Tarazet_

I closed my eyes, exasperated. He knew, I was sure of it. I couldn't imagine what to say or do, but I knew I couldn't avoid the confrontation forever. Gritting my teeth, I scrawled, "Fine," and then, desperately hoping it was as innocent of an invitation as other lunches, I wrote "Saturday, same time and place." _If we're in a public place he won't talk about it_, I hoped against hope as I rubbed my temples.

* * *

When I walked into the Hog's Head that Saturday, I mentally winced and felt a sinking feeling of disappointment at seeing Tarazet already seated at our corner table; I didn't realize until I walked in the door, but I had been hoping he wouldn't show. I slid into a seat and greeted him in a neutral tone. He returned the salutations before saying in an offhand sort of tone, "You know, I was in Manchester a couple of days ago, and I could have sworn I saw you there."

"Hm, really?" I said innocently. "Must have been somebody else. I haven't been to Manchester in years."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows and gave me penetrating glance that said he clearly didn't believe me. "Well then I definitely saw you on that large hill outside of Mother and Father's house that we used to run up and down when we were kids."

"Hm, nope, I don't know what you're talking about," I said lightly, eying the corner of the ceiling. "Really, Tarazet, you must be going delusional or something."

"Really?" he said as he leaned over the table and rested his chin in his hands, determinedly looking at my face while I just as determinedly avoided his eyes. "Well I certainly heard your voice there, and if your _voice_ is there, then you must have been there."

"You must be hearing things," I said, starting to get annoyed.

He leaned even closer and said in a barely audible whisper, "Funny, because I was coming back from a Death Eater attack, and I certainly wasn't alone on that hill."

I froze. Even if he had whispered the last sentence, I was terrified somebody might have heard it. "Let's go somewhere private to talk," I snapped, and he gave a smirk in return. I was sure that had been his goal; realistically, there was no way we could talk about such a subject in public. "Where do you want to go?"

"I've been spending an awful lot of time at Mother and Father's house, so how about your place." He stood up and we walked out of the disreputable establishment. I grabbed onto his arm before he could apparate by himself, and with a crack we materialized in the alley behind my apartment building.

"What are we--?" he started, confused.

"We can't apparate to directly in front of my apartment," I explained. "There's a family of Muggles that live across the hall, and my apartment itself has an anti-apparition charm."

His face had the beginnings of a sneer as he said, "I forgot you lived in a Muggle apartment building. Not successful enough to live in a wizarding area," he lashed out. I felt a flash of annoyance, but just pursed my lips instead of saying anything.

We had just trudged up the three flights of stairs to my apartment, when I saw my Muggle landlady walking down the hall. I winced; we didn't like each other very much, to put it lightly. "Colburn!" she barked in her shrill voice. She frowned and glanced at Tarazet up and down. "What, you're bringing strange men to your apartment now, too? Going to play Dungeons and Dragons or something, what with those funny outfits and all the weird objects in your apartment?"

"I don't believe her brother qualifies as a stranger," Tarazet said acidly, eying her Muggle clothes. She wore tight pants and a shirt with the words "The Beatles" mysteriously written on it; I vaguely wondered why she was so interested in insects, and if the Muggle dialect of English was different enough to warrant different spellings.

"Hmph." She was still suspiciously eyeing his robes. She turned towards me and said in her high-pitched voice, "The Johnsons say you haven't been living here, Colburn. They say they haven't seen you in months."

"Well clearly I still do live here," I said coolly. "Seeing as I've been paying rent, and I'm here now. Perhaps the Johnsons are not very observant, or perhaps we have been leaving our apartments at different times of day," I lied. The way she had accused me made me wonder if there were some Muggle regulations about having to actually live somewhere if you were renting it. The landlady thought I was beyond odd, and she would have been more than happy to have some "normal" family (by Muggle definitions) live there instead.

"Hmph," she repeated. "Fine," she added, before walking down the flight of stairs. I waited until the sound of her footsteps had fully faded before I took out my wand and tapped it on the door handle to open it.

When we walked into the foyer/living room/dining room, I saw the scorch marks on the floor by the dropped cauldron and suddenly remembered that I hadn't been back here or cleaned up since Seginus and Matar had attacked me in January. I mentioned this to Tarazet, including that I had just about emptied my closet looking for that cauldron and not yet put anything back. He shrugged and said, "I'll help clean up."

"You don't know where anything goes," I hesitated for a split second.

"Neither do you," he said pointedly, and an amused smile was tugging at his thin lips.

I almost let out a laugh, "Good point."

Together we threw the various books, boxes, and clothes back into the closet rather haphazardly. It felt good to be doing something active, and it was also an excuse to push off the Death Eater conversation a bit longer. As it was, we only had scraps of a conversation, asking if it mattered where something went, or occasionally pointing something out, as in the one set of Muggle clothes I owned. We had put (thrown, whatever) just about everything back into the closet when I saw Tarazet pick up a scrap of paper and quietly trail off, "Oh, look…" I felt my stomach constrict; it was a photo, one that Mother and Father had kept an enlarged version of on the mantel for many years. Many wealthy pureblood families had a portrait of their family done by prestigious painters which they would then prominently display. We were neither, but my parents liked to think of us as both. My family was too poor to afford a painting, though, so ours was instead a color photo. We were all wearing our best dress robes, and attempting to look into the camera with regal, dignified looks befitting of a pureblood family. My mother and father were both seated in ebony colored chairs, the matriarch and patriarch of the family. Behind father's chair stood his favorite child, the first born son: Seginus. Immediately to Seginus's left stood Matar, inseparable and devoted to Father even in the photo. In the middle of the photo, between Mother and Father, stood the middle child, Deneb. Then came Tarazet and finally me, standing behind Mother's chair. Tarazet and I were alternatively smiling and chatting or giving each other annoyed looks and shoving each other's shoulders. "Huh. Memories."

"Yeah," I replied to his comment, unsure what else I could say. He threw the photo unceremoniously into the closet and closed the door, now that we had finished cleaning up. We walked back into the foyer/living room/dining room, and started scourgify-ing the carpet that was scorched from Seginus and Matar's Dark Magic. There was the sound of quietly scuffling feet outside of my door and I shared a frown with Tarazet. When the door handle started moving we both drew our wands and pointed them at the door as it slowly creaked open. With a feeling of rage, I recognized the bearded faces of Seginus and Matar as they walked unabashedly into the room. They both already had their wands out, and seemed only mildly surprised at seeing us.

"My, my. Company," Tarazet coolly broke the silence.

"A downright family reunion," Seginus said coldly, as though four siblings having their wands hostilely pointed at each other could count as a family reunion. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife: none of us were willing to put our wands down, yet none of us wanted to be the first to cast a hex if there was a dual. I vaguely remembered what Tarazet's yelled threat from when he had visited me in the hospital wing in January: "All I know is I'm cursing Seginus and Matar to hell when I see them, because clearly you're unable to."

"I hear you haven't taken our advice, Liseli," Matar's words finally broke the tense silence.

"And what advice was that?" Tarazet said angrily.

Seginus's eyes narrowed as he looked at me and he ignored Tarazet's question, "As the current patriarch of the family, after our beloved father's death, I have a right to be obeyed."

"I'm not a piece of property to be handed off at our parent's death," I spat out bitterly, knowing full well that the only person he ever ordered around was me.

"If you had a husband, I wouldn't have to take charge of your well-being," my oldest brother said with a sneer.

I felt my veins burn with a fiery rage at being condescended to, but before I could say anything, Tarazet angrily said in an elevated voice, "Funny, I don't recall you ever caring about her well-being."

"She's working for Dumbledore," Matar added loathingly. "The man partially responsible for _your_ prison sentence, might I remind you."

I saw my youngest brother's resolve flicker for a second, and I remembered his outrage at first learning that I was working for Dumbledore. "Yeah, well, I'm not going to attack her for it," he said in a steely voice. "She's welcome to work for whoever she wants." I emitted a faint sigh of relief at knowing Tarazet was on my side. I had expected him to be, but I still felt reassured to hear his words.

"No. She isn't welcome to work wherever she wants. She shouldn't be working at all," Seginus stated, as though it was an unchangeable fact. "She is disobeying the patriarch of the family, just as she ignores and disrespects everything Father and Mother taught her."

I felt the fiery anger in my blood reach a boiling point, and I saw a curse fly from the tip of Tarazet's wand just as I hatefully sent a curse towards them. They both sidestepped the curses, which took a few splinters from the door behind them, and then they wordlessly sent curses in our direction. I ducked behind the couch and I heard a loud ripping sound as the curse tore the couch's fabric. We started exchanging hexes; none of us were aiming to kill, but you can do an awful lot of harm to somebody before they actually die. My small apartment was not the optimal place for a dual, and it soon showed, both in substantial damage to the wall and the furniture, and in the shattering of any fragile objects that were out.

I fired another spell just as a jet of purple light from Matar struck me; it felt as though somebody had slapped my cheek with the broad side of a blade. Focusing my attention on my second oldest brother, I angrily sent a hex that would immobilize his wand arm, but he turned and it instead hit his non-dominant arm. "Don't you dare hurt Matar," Seginus barked it like an order. The next word that escaped his lips was not an order. "_Crucio_," he said coldly. I started screaming, but an instant later the pain disappeared. Tarazet, with a livid look on his face, had started using that curse on our oldest brother. Matar, with an equally livid look, issued the incantation for the Cruciatus curse, and now it was Tarazet who was screaming in pain. A bitter laugh issued from Seginus's mouth, "I remember hearing those screams in Azkaban. I never knew you shared our cell block."

Matar and Seginus were both momentarily distracted by the latter's comment, and I took the opportunity to quickly stun Matar. Seginus angrily turned towards me, but Tarazet sent a curse towards our eldest brother; it threw him against the wall and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Well that was a pleasant little dual," I panted sarcastically before casting binding spells on the unconscious forms of our Seginus and Matar for good measure.

Tarazet eyed his wounded shoulder; it looked as though blue pus was leaking from his slashed robes. "Pleasant is most certainly not the word I would use."

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. We turned and looked at each other quizzically, but the knocking continued. "Open up in there!" a man's voice came from behind the door. "Or I swear to God I'll break it down!"

…

A/N: Sorry for the wait, hopefully the long chapter makes up for it. And don't worry, Snape's going to be coming back into the story soon. Anyways, thanks so much to Mark Darcy, Leslie, tibys, gothicflower, angelofire and PollyWantCookie for reviewing!


	29. Of Muggles, Death Eaters, and Rationales

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Of Muggles, Death Eaters, and Rationales**

I cautiously swung the front door open, immediately pointing my wand at the face of the man who was standing there. Judging by his clothes, he was a Muggle. One of my neighbors, no doubt. "What's going on? Is everything alright, Leslie?" he hurriedly asked. He seemed almost surprised that I had actually opened the door. In his right hand he held a squat metal wand with a thick curved handle.

"Excuse me?" I said skeptically. "If you're looking for a Leslie, you have the wrong place."

"No, you're Leslie. I saw your name on the mailbox downstairs." _What on earth is a mailbox?_ I thought to myself. "I-I heard all of these crashes and yells form your apartment. It sounded like somebody was being murdered or something, so I came running." _A nice gesture_, I thought, _but a Muggle stands no chance against an armed wizard. _His eyes were scanning the room behind me when they landed on the still forms of Seginus and Matar, and his face quickly gained a terrified expression. "Oh my God!" he yelped.

With a lightning fast movement and the words "_Accio_ metal wand," the silver object in the Muggle was holding flew out of his hand and into Tarazet's.

The terror on the Muggle's face increased, if possible, and he haltingly took a step back. "What type of sick game are you people playing at?" his voice quavered.

"Tarazet," I moaned, "Now we're going to have to obliviate him."

"No! Don't kill me!" the Muggle near shrieked, and it looked as though he was ready to start sprinting away from the open door as fast as possible.

I waved my wand and he fell to the floor in a body bind curse. "_Silencio_," I murmured, before levitating him into my apartment and shutting the door.

Tarazet was looking at the metal wand with a curious look on his face, turning it different ways to regard it from different angles. "What on earth is this?" he said, perplexed. "I thought it was a wand of some sort, but I've been trying all sorts of spells, and it's not doing anything. I don't even know how to hold it; it's not a straight line." There was suddenly a very loud _bang! _which caused both of us to leap about a meter into the air, and a chunk of wood went flying off the table Tarazet was standing by. We exchanged shocked looks before he said, "Well, this is useless. You pull a switch, a trigger and it casts a weak curse at whatever it's pointing at."

I couldn't help but smile at Tarazet focusing on Muggle toys instead of paying attention to the three men lying on the floor. "Look, we should decide what to do with these three," I told him.

"The Muggle will be the easiest to take care of," my brother jerked his head toward the petrified man. "We can just erase his memory and dump him in the hallway. He'll think he was walking back to his place."

"He might notice if he's missing his wand," I said pointedly, as Tarazet was still curiously regarding the metal object.

"I honestly can't comprehend how Muggles' minds work. This is such a worthless object," he said, tucking it into the man's jean pocket. Once we had wiped the Muggle's memory and put him out in the hallway, there still remained the unconscious forms of our two oldest brothers to deal with. We stood silently, looking at them, before Tarazet nudged Seginus's form with his foot and said in a rather subdued tone, "Well, what do you want to do with them?"

The many possibilities hung heavily in the air, and the fact that they were escaped Azkaban prisoners seemed to be the obese elephant in the room, one who was taking up every molecule of space. A shiver went through me as I remembered something Tarazet had said: "A death sentence would be more merciful than a life sentence in Azkaban." To say I disliked Seginus and Matar would have been putting it lightly, but they were my brothers…could I really send them back to Azkaban? _Or kill them?_ my mind hauntingly added. "Let's—let's just dump them somewhere," the words struggled to be released from my lips. _Someone else will have to bring them to justice. Or whatever it is the courts are supposed to serve out,_ I thought.

"I know somewhere," Tarazet said simply. "I can apparate them."

"I want to go with you," I blurt out, unsure what had possessed me to say it.

"Alright," he looked mildly surprised, but together we levitated our two eldest brothers into the hallway, where we could apparate. A moment later, a grassy clearing swam into sight. There were tall trees surrounding it, and fallen logs criss-crossed it, growing with vibrantly colored mosses and wildflowers. A warm breeze and the sound of rustling leaves were the only noises, excluding Tarazet's tired breathing from having just apparated three people. "Ready to go back?" he panted.

"This place is beautiful," I murmured. "How'd you know about it?"

He frowned and said in a cold tone, "It isn't very beautiful when you think there might be an auror hidden behind every tree. This was one of my hiding spots when I was on the run from the law."

I felt a pang to think that someone could be in such a terrified condition that a beautiful place like this could seem like a nightmare. At that moment I got a very strong urge to apologize for my behavior fifteen years previous, and I opened my mouth, the words ready to spill out. But nothing came out. I had been too stubborn to so much as mention it thus far, and that stubbornness seemed to be constricting my vocal chords. Tarazet didn't notice or at least didn't react to my silent struggle. "We can go back," words finally managed to leave my dry lips. With a crack he disappeared, and a second later I finally followed him. He was waiting for me in the alley behind my apartment building and together we trudged back up the stairs. "More clean up to do," I rolled my eyes as I surveyed the mess the duel had left my apartment in.

"We should probably worry about cleaning ourselves up first," Tarazet said pointedly, and my eyes leapt towards his still wounded shoulder. "Perhaps you should look in a mirror if you think I'm the only one that's hurt," he smirked. He transfigured a nearby book into a mirror and handed it to me. I was quite shocked to see a long, very thin gash on my left cheek. It was leaking large red droplets of blood, and I had not even noticed. I pointed my wand at my check and muttered the incantation to heal the simple cutting spell.

Tarazet was regarding his shoulder and biting his lip, concentrating. "The counter curse is 'Chal..Chal-something. Ugh! It's on the tip of my tongue; I just can't remember," he said in an exasperated tone.

I frowned, thinking, "That's the _froideur _curse, right? Makes it feel like you have frost bite?" He nodded and after a second I remembered the counter curse. "_Chaleur_," I made a broad sweeping motion over his shoulder with my wand, and the blue color faded to his normal pale skin color.

Together we quickly cleaned up the rest of my apartment and Tarazet asked me with a wrinkled brow, "What did Seginus and Matar say the last time they were here?"

"Same as this time. They think they have a right to run my life because I'm their youngest sibling. The quote-unquote 'rebellious' one," I explained in an annoyed tone.

My youngest brother shook his head, "I can't believe them. Their beliefs are straight from the Middle Ages."

"Or straight from our parents," I added bitterly. Tarazet pursed his lips but didn't say anything; even if he had gotten along with our parents better than I had, he recognized why I didn't and rarely pushed the matter. "Do you want to have lunch?" I changed the topic of conversation and moved towards the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Considering you haven't been living here for more than half a year, I'm not quite sure I trust the food in your kitchen."

"Don't worry, I threw out everything that wouldn't keep before I moved into Hogwarts," I said in a light-hearted tone, scouring the empty cupboards. "Oh, look, here's something. An unopened can of jam," I placed it on the counter. "And some crackers. Bit stale, but still edible."

At this point Tarazet had wandered over, and was skeptically holding the strawberry jam in his hand. "This should be an interesting meal," he laughed with an amused smile on his face.

"Oh, look, canned coup! Gold mine," I placed it next to the two other edible items I had found.

"It's becoming a veritable fast, now," my brother grinned.

"Nothing but the best for you, Mr. Colburn," I made an extravagant gesture like the maître-d' at a fancy restaurant. He laughed and transfigured a nearby spoon into a pot, before dumping the can of soup into the pot. It was chicken noodle soup, and it made an unappetizing splat sound as it hit the bottom of the pot. "I _do_ own pots you know," an amused smile danced on my lips.

"I know, but what fun would that be?" he said, hiding a smile.

"Transfiguration was always your favorite subject," I said as I started spreading jam on the crackers. Tarazet followed suit and after munching silently for a few moments I casually said, "So I'm not sure how well jam goes with saltines."

"No, they don't," he cheerfully replied, taking another bite.

Once the soup finished warming up, I poured it into two bowls and we sat at the living/dining room table, slurping in silence. Tarazet had a very determined, yet hesitant facial expression, as though he was thinking of how to phrase a thought that must be said. I looked at him and desperately hoped he had forgotten the original reason he had wanted to have lunch together. Unfortunately, it seemed as though I would not be so lucky. "Liseli," he finally started. "I know you were in Manchester on Tuesday evening, and it doesn't matter if you deny it a million times. You're my sister and I'm not going to mistake some random person on the street—or, I suppose, to be more accurate, some random Death Eater—for you." I gave him a steely glare. He could make the accusation but that didn't mean I had to confirm it or volunteer anything. I almost felt like an impertinent child giving him the silent treatment. "Was it Regulus who took you to your first meeting?" he was looking me straight in the eye.

Seized by a sudden feeling that it would be useless to hold out forever, I grudgingly gave him the piece of information he was asking for. "No," I said, not relinquishing my steely glare.

"Who then?" he asked with a hint of hurt and confusion. His unasked question hung heavily in the air: "Why didn't you ask me?"

"One of the Lestrange brothers," I replied, only now I couldn't bring myself to continue the steely glare.

"Who?" he quizzically asked, looking at me intently.

"I can't remember his first name. He was a Slytherin in Deneb's year. He was…always talking about how great…_they_ were. He practically sounded like he was a professional recruiter for _them_," I couldn't bring myself to say the words "Death Eaters."

Tarazet looked puzzled. "Deneb's year? When did you become a Death Eater, then?"

I flinched at the second question, but still answered, "In my Seventh Year. I never talked to Lestrange while he was at Hogwarts—you know that. I owled him because I knew he would take me to them," I said guiltily, not look at my brother's light blue eyes. He was looking at me, stunned, and the unasked question still hung in the air. "I—I didn't want anybody to know," I offered as a measly attempt at an explanation, an apology for why I had not entrusted my brother with such an important task. But he was still looking at me, not satisfied with my poor explanation, knowing there must be more. "The less people that know, the better, the safer," I added as another meager attempt.

"Merlin, Liseli, I'd have died before I betrayed you," he sounded shock and offended that he had to clarify such a thing aloud.

"I know," I felt another twinge of guilt for not asking him. "It's just—I didn't even know if I was going to go through it, when I first thought about joining. I talked to Lestrange, and he said he would come talk to me again when his Dark Mark burned. I mean, you know that's how newcomers join—when somebody else's Dark Mark burns they bring the newcomer with them. Well, he came to me when his Dark Mark burned and said 'Are you coming or not?' I didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity. All of the pros and cons kept flashing haphazardly through my mind, and I was absolutely torn. Finally he got annoyed and said, 'Aw, you're wussing out. The women always do. There's a reason most Death Eaters are men.' And then I was just seized by this burst of anger and the pros won out—I'd be part of something powerful and respectable, a lot of people I knew were joining it, and I'd get to learn and use powerful magic. And the cons seemed to diminish. There were a lot of Death Eaters, not that many were killed or arrested, and Regulus had made it sound like you never had to kill anybody. I wasn't a pureblood fanatic, but that wasn't even the emphasis I'd heard a lot of people use when talking about joining, and I was plenty used to be surrounded by pureblood elitists—I mean, almost all Slytherins were. So I went with him to my first meeting and was branded with the Mark. By that point it was already too late to turn back, but I was still unsure if I actually wanted to be a Death Eater, so I didn't tell you at first. Then when we got to doing the actual attacks, I really started regretting my decision, and I was too ashamed to admit that I had joined. I hate admitting when I've done something wrong—you know that." I was giving him a pleading look. I wanted him to accept my explanation as an apology for not asking him to take me to my first meeting and for never telling him later. Apologizes, being another form of admitting you were wrong, were something else I hated doing, even when I felt terribly guilty.

He gave a sad sigh."Liseli, I know we have—er—different beliefs concerning Muggles and Muggle-borns. And I know—that I can act rather—disrespectful towards your beliefs." He said the last sentence with jerks and pauses, as though each individual word took a momentous effort to say; he was as stubborn as I was when it came to admitting wrong doing. "I'm saying this because I want you to know that I mean what I'm about to say next, and I mean it in the sincerest way possible." I looked at him, wondering what would require both an apology and mournful seriousness as a prelude. "Don't—don't do what Regulus did, okay?" His voice cracked. "I know he had a change in heart and decided he wouldn't be a Death Eater anymore but—just—don't—don't be like him. Don't be a martyr for your beliefs. Promise me?" His whole face was twisted into a pained, worried expression.

My light blue eyes locked onto his. "I promise."

…

A/N: Quick tangent, I was practicing writing one hundred word drabbles a while back, and I wrote one about Tarazet which I just published. It's called "The Professor and the Counterfeiter," so check it out! The link is the standard start of the fanfiction url followed by /s/5454396/1/

Onto notes about this chapter…The Muggle's "metal wand" at the beginning of the chapter was intended to be a gun; could you tell, or do I need to describe it better? Also, do you think I developed Liseli's reasons for becoming a Death Eater enough in this chapter? Finally, a huge thank you to brandon279, Leslie, -DX-, gothic flower, angelofire, toasty1, PollyWantCookie for reviewing! Your reviews inspire me to update more quickly =D


	30. Curses and Coming Clean

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Curses and Coming Clean**

By the time I got back to Hogwarts it was dinner time and I was absolutely famished; a few crackers and half a can of soup barely counted as a lunch, as far as I was concerned. The first thing I did when I sat down to dinner in the Great Hall was start piling food onto my plate, only nodding to acknowledge Sprout and Severus to my left and right. About ten minutes into the meal, Severus turned to me with a mildly surprised look on his face. I thought he was going to start a conversation, but when he kept looking without saying a word I turned to him and said "Yes?"

He looked at me a moment longer before stating in a matter-of-fact tone, "You're bleeding." My eyes opened wide with shock and I quickly clapped my hand to my left cheek. My fingertips came away moist and red, and I immediately leapt up from my seat at the table. The spell Matar hit me with must have been more than just a simple slashing curse if the cut it gave me had reopened suddenly. I quickly strode towards my quarters while trying to keep my hand over my cheek as casually as I could and mentally going through a list of possible hexes it could have been. I heard another set of footsteps echoing in the hall a mere second before Severus's long strides had caught up with me. "Something tells me you did not accidently trip and fall face first onto a knife," he said in an annoyed tone, eyeing my cheek.

"No," I mumbled, not looking at him. I didn't particularly want to admit that I had been fighting Seginus and Matar again.

"Let me heal your cheek. Move your hand," he near ordered.

"I can heal it just fine myself," I replied impertinently, not wanting him to think I was weak or helpless.

He let out an exasperated sigh, before adding angrily adding, "Let me at least see it. What are you doing, getting yourself injured?" It was lost on me why he was angry with me for being wounded, but I finally grudgingly moved my hand to reveal my bleeding cheek. "It looks like a delayed version of the _balafre_ curse," his eyes scoured the single, long cut on my face. I had also reached the conclusion that it was a variation of the _balafre_ curse, a version of the slashing curse designed for human flesh. Before I could say anything, he had his wand up to his face and was muttering an incantation. As soon as he finished speaking though, his eyes opened wide with shock and it sounded like he had said something along the lines of "Bloody hell" underneath his breath. I traced my cheek with my fingertips and realized with a jolt that the first half of his curse had been rather accurate, at least—it seemed as though I was now bleeding profusely, instead of the slow and steady drip it had been previously.

I practically ran in the direction of my quarters; I didn't want somebody to see me bleeding in the hallway, because then I might have to reveal that I had had another encounter with my Death Eater brothers. Sev quickly walked besides me. "The curse must contain guards against some versions of the counter curses," he sounded caught off guard. "How long ago was it used on you?"

"I don't know. Five hours?" I replied, swinging open the painting to my quarters.

He followed me without skipping a beat and pressed for further symptoms. "And the gash hadn't opened or started bleeding until just now?"

"No, I felt it immediately. I don't know if it started bleeding immediately, but it started within twenty minutes, at least. I thought it was the standard version of the _balafre_ curse, since its light had that distinctive violet color, so I used the standard healing curse," I explained, pressing a towel up to my cheek to keep any more blood from dripping onto my robes.

"So it's not merely a delayed version, because it already cut you," he was exasperatedly rubbing his temples.

"I'm thinking that it must be a cyclic version, designed to reopen after a certain period of time, or after certain requirements have been met," I replied thoughtfully.

He stared intently at the empty air in front of him, holding his chin in his hand while I, likewise, pondered potential counter curses. Every few moments he would open his mouth as though he was about to say something, before clamping his jaw shut again and frowning. I finally broke the silence by pointing my wand at my cheek and saying, "_Nicht Mehr Plaie_."

He looked up at my words and cautiously eyed my cheek. "I think you're not bleeding anymore. I can't tell for sure, though; there's too much blood already on your face. _Scourgify_," he added.

I flinched and bit my lip. Whether or not I was still bleeding I wasn't sure, but it felt as though the cleaning spell had hit my open wound, and it stung a good deal. "The cut's still open," I told him pointedly.

He took the towel I was holding and, to my surprise, leaned forward and gently cleaned the rest of the dry blood off my left cheek. "You're right. It's a very thin cut," he frowned, his face close to mine and his eyes locked onto the portion of my face where the slash was. I muttered the incantation again and he gave the tiniest of nods. "It's gone now. No scar." Neither of us moved for a split second; it took Sev about that long to realize that, as he had yet to move away from me, he was still rather close. He quickly withdrew to outside the socially-accepted personal space bubble and continued talking as though nothing had happened. "Who cursed you?" he coldly asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

I hesitated. The stalling words "What's it to you?" were reflexively on the tip of my tongue, and I paused before eventually replying. "Matar did," I grudgingly revealed, looking at the ceiling.

"He and another one of your brothers were the ones who put you in the Hospital Wing in January, weren't they?" his eyes narrowed.

"Him and Seginus," I nodded.

"How did they find you again?"

"I was at my apartment. They must have cast a charm on it so they can tell when I'm there," I mused, exasperatedly rubbing my temples. Determining which charm and the counter charm was going to be a pain, but until I did I wouldn't be able to safely return.

"It was two on one?" his question shook with righteous anger.

"Two on two. Tarazet was with me," I explained, distractedly running a finger down my cheek to make sure the cut was fully healed.

"And you haven't determined the charm on your apartment yet?"

I shook my head, "I haven't started trying to figure it out yet."

Sev looked at me thoughtfully before letting the word "Okay" slip from his lips. It looked as though he was about to leave, before he suddenly turned towards me again and said, "Why are your Death Eater brothers attacking you if you yourself are a Death Eater?"

"They don't know I'm a Death Eater," I simply stated.

"Ah. Right," his cleanly separated words came. After a pause he gave me a curious look and continued in his distinctive style of enunciation, "I do believe you are one of the most unenthusiastic Death Eaters I have ever met."

I blinked at him. Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? Made unsure by the ambiguity, I playfully replied, "Well if we're speaking about people with a lack of enthusiasm, then I'm at a loss as to how you ever became a member of the Inner Circle."

A flash of a scrutinizing glance crossed his face before he replied in that utterly uninterpretable tone of his, "You seem to assume that I'm actually working for the Dark Lord. How do you know I'm not using my position to sabotage Him?"

There was that complete ambiguity of his again! After a second of dead silence I nervously let out a snort of a laugh. "You wouldn't tell me if you were doing that. It'd be your head on a silver platter."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Pray tell, even if you did convey this information to someone else, who would believe you?" I indignantly opened my and shut my mouth, searching for words, before I meekly admitted to myself that he had a point: nobody listened to Death Eaters who were at the bottom of the hierarchy. "Besides," he continued in his ambiguous drawl, "Would you actually report me if I were a spy?"

"Well, no, of course not." The words flew out of me before I could even consider how to answer, "I wouldn't care if you were a spy." His eyes flashed towards mine and I felt rather exposed until he went back to examining the cuffs of his robes in a rather forced casual manner.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, "That's good to know. You know, when I first met you, I thought you might be a spy, too. After all, a Death Eater working for Dumbledore is a rather rare occurrence."

Annoyed by his misconstruing of my actions, I near-interrupted him, "I'm not defined by being a Death Eater. I wanted a job, so I applied, simple as that." I paused to gather my thoughts, while Sev awaited my words in an almost expectant manner. "Besides," I continued, "I may not like the Death Eaters, but I don't care enough about either side to take on the extra dangers associated with becoming a spy. My most valuable asset is my life, and if I lose it to this war, then the war will have been failure for me, no matter which side ends up winning."

With a neutral look on his face, he replied, "No one would mistake you for a Gryffindor. They practically clamor to die for their ideals. They picture themselves as martyrs of some sort, I imagine. I suppose, though, that I wouldn't die for ideals either. People, maybe. Not ideals." He made a brief gesture with his hand, as though to wave away that topic of conversation, before continuing his drawl, "But as I was saying before you interrupted me"—here I gave him a quick glare—"Now I know better than to think you're a spy. You don't hide your emotions well enough to be one. You'd be dead in a week." I felt a surge of annoyance at the insult and was about to snap back at him when he abruptly continued, "Perhaps it's for the best. I rather prefer you alive." Without a single further word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving me to stare after him, bewildered at our entire conversation.

* * *

The next day after dinner Sev approached me and, without prelude, stated, "I think I know which charm Seginus and Matar used. I need to cast a revealing charm on your apartment to be sure, though."

I blinked at him. It almost sounded as though he was inviting himself to my flat. "Uh, alright. I can apparate you," I stated, hoping I wasn't misinterpreting his sentence. He nodded, and we started walking towards Hogsmeade. _Cursed anti-apparation barrier_, I thought. Once we arrived, he started casting spells, alternately on the door, the door handle, the walls and the ceiling.

"They didn't come immediately once you had opened your door, so it's not a charm with Portkey-like properties," he drawled aloud. "And it's not an alarm charm, or else you would have heard something. My guess is that a human presence triggers the charm, and the charm is actually a charm on some object that they have, i.e. it'll cause their object to make a noise or change color. I doubt we can remove the part of the charm on their end, but removing the activation part of the charm will be enough." I nodded, and he silently waved his wand over the door again. Frowning slightly, he added, "Actually, it seems that it's not even a human presence that it reacts to, it's just the presence of a warm-blooded creature that triggers the charm. A house elf would activate it."

I thoughtfully tapped my finger on my chin before striding over to the door frame and making a sharp movement with my wand. "Okay, I just cast a permanent cooling charm, so now when somebody walks through there shouldn't be enough additional heat to trigger the charm." I sheepishly thanked him before we apparated back to Hogsmeade, and started the trudge back to the humongous castle.

A hesitant look crossed Sev's face, and after a moment he spoke in an almost curious tone, "You have a very odd relationship with your brothers."

I blinked and questioningly cocked my head, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He seemed to be thinking how to phrase his thoughts, and he slowly started, "The first time I saw you and your brother Tarazet you both looked about ready to hex each other to hell, and yet you said that yesterday you were dueling on the same side. Perhaps this is one of the joys I've missed not having a sibling," he said sarcastically, "But most relationships between people don't change that quickly."

"Tarazet and I were…abnormally mad at each other the time you saw us," the words struggled to come out. He looked at me, as though wondering what I meant, and I felt compelled to continue. "He felt betrayed that I was fraternizing with the enemy, so to speak. Dumbledore played a small role in his sentence, and I think—I'm sure—he felt stabbed in the back that I was working at Hogwarts," I offered an explanation, feeling terribly guilty for concealing the role I had played in the conflict. The words rushed out of me like a dam had broken, "I—I also wasn't very polite to him, considering we hadn't seen each other in a decade and a half. Do you remember what I told you my worst memory was? That time we were walking in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago?" my thoughts came out jumbled, looking for some coherent explanation.

Severus regarded me and slowly nodded. "I remember I told you that my memory also involved being rather rude to a friend, and that she never forgave me."

Pushed by his revelation, the words continued to spill out of me. "I told Tarazet I would come and say goodbye directly before he left for the start of his prison sentence. I did come to his holding cell, but I came in disguise, because I was ashamed and afraid of being identified with a criminal and—and I was mad at him. All of my friends had died or stopped talking with me and he was the only one I had left and now he was leaving me, too," my voice cracked and the words poured out, an unstoppable flood. "I watched as the guards dragged him away to go to Azkaban. He was absolutely hysterical—he hated Dementors with a passion, and was terrified of Azkaban. And while they were taking him he kept crying out, 'No, don't take me yet! Liseli said she'd come and say goodbye—'"

"But the guards didn't care what he pleaded and dragged him away to the dock while I stayed rooted to the spot where I stood. I felt absolutely horrible," I swallowed and stared intently at my feet while we continued walking. "When Tarazet suddenly came to my classroom after his release from prison, I didn't want to see him because I felt so ashamed and guilty for my behavior towards him the last time I had seen him. I was furious at being reminded and near terrified that he might mention it because, really, I have absolutely no legitimate explanation for it except my own petty, foolish, inexcusable reasons. So I wasn't exactly polite to him, and that combined with the fact that I was working for Dumbledore led to a quickly escalating argument between us," I let out a long sigh, feeling a weight lifted from my chest.

"What has changed since your first encounter in this decade? The past has not changed, and you still work for Dumbledore," Sev questioningly turned towards me, while I continued staring at my feet.

"He hasn't brought up the last time I saw him before he left for Azkaban. I still feel guilty but—he doesn't seem to be actively offended by it, and I think he might have forgiven me, even if not in those words. Now that we're friends again, I suppose the fact that I work at Hogwarts doesn't aggravate him as much, because he knows it's not a sign of me back-stabbing him, that it's just a job," I was finally able to tear my gaze away from my feet once I had reached the relatively cheerful conclusion. "We still snap at each other sometimes, because I disagree with his beliefs, and he's disappointed in mine, but for the most part we're friends."

Speak of the devil: when I got back to my quarters my owl was patiently waiting for me with a letter from Tarazet attached to its leg.

_Liseli!_ it excitedly started.

_I just finished another interview and I've finally been granted a job. It's at a small store in Knockturn Alley called Dunkel and Finster's. They specialize in taking objects and adding properties to them depending on what the customer wants; they also sell pre-cursed versions of these items which have been changed to have additional properties, these properties often having to do with Dark Magic. Unfortunately, the only job opening they had is as a cashier, but at this point I'm desperate for a paying job. They say that I'll be promoted when there's an opening for one of the spell casters. Anyways, you should come and visit; I'm working standard hours and my lunch break starts at noon._

_Tarazet_

…

A/N: So do you think my explanation of what happened the last time she saw Tarazet fifteen years ago was too long, right length, too short? Anyways, a huge thank you to Mark Darcy, angelofire, toasty 1, tibys, PollyWantCookie and Mywaychan for reviewing! I really appreciate every single review. And Happy Halloween to those of you who celebrate it :)


	31. Dunkel and Finster's

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Dunkel and Finster's**

There was definitely something odd about my classes the next day. When I walked into the classroom there was not the normal chatter of students, but instead what seemed like furtive whispers, and even these disappeared as soon as I stepped through the door. Even the normal background noise that exists during any class period had disappeared. I would have been ecstatic that my students were being so well-behaved and not talking, were it not for the scrutinizing glances that many of them were giving me out of the corner of their eyes. It was a very disconcerting feeling, and I couldn't possibly think of why their behavior might have changed, unless I was simply imagining it. All of my classes for the day acted in exactly the same manner, and by the end of the day I was rather frustrated and almost creeped out; it felt as though I was missing something terribly obvious which the rest of the world had been informed of, like it was Must-Walk-On-Eggshells-Around-Your-Professors Day or something. I decided to visit Hagrid to see if he had heard something, and when I arrived, Harry, Hermione and Ron were already seated at the table in his hut. They suddenly became rather quiet and gave me hesitant, almost nervous glances.

"Hagrid, and this question goes for you three, too," I nodded towards the trio of students and politely asked, "Do you know why the entire student body has been walking on tiptoe today? Students keep looking at me like I've sprouted a pair of horns and haven't noticed it yet." As soon as I finished speaking, all four people in the room awkwardly looked away in a forced casual manner.

Finally Hermione bravely broke the silence and said, "Professor, do you read the Daily Prophet?"

"No…" I said slowly, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. What on earth could the newspaper have printed to make the entire student body act differently towards me?

"Uh, here yer go," Hagrid grabbed the newspaper from his kitchen counter and handed it to me. "Bottom left corner of the front page."

I frowned as my eyes scanned in that direction and my mouth silently made the shape of an "O" even before I started reading the article. The title, in a bold black font read: "Death Eaters Escape Aurors Again" and directly under the text there was a photo of Seginus and one of Matar.

_Four Death Eaters attacked Wilson's Wand Emporium in Birmingham yesterday, May 4__th__,_ I read. _It is believed that their goal was to kidnap Wilmur Wilson the wandmaker. Wilson, however, was able to fight against them long enough for Aurors to be called and maintain the dual. In the struggle that ensued, two Aurors and Wilson himself were killed, and two of the Death Eaters were unmasked. After Wilson's death, the four Death Eaters apparated away, but not before the two unmasked ones were identified as Seginus Colburn and Matar Colburn. Seginus and Matar Colburn were captured and arrested after a Death Eater attack in 1980. They were charged with disrupting the public peace, spreading mayhem and using Unforgivables on Aurors. Both Colburns were given life sentences in Azkaban but escaped in the mass prison break approximately a year ago. Any information that might aid in their capture should immediately be reported to the Ministry of Magic. It is noted that their brother Tarazet Colburn is also a former Azkaban prisoner and suspected Death Eater._

I stared at the article for a long time, even once I had finished reading it. My mind struggled to think what I could possibly say. I couldn't exactly deny that Seginus and Matar were Death Eaters or plead ignorance. It angered me that The Daily Prophet made it sound like Tarazet was also an escaped Death Eater, not only because I had been publically seen associating with him, but because I was sure it was going to make life more difficult for him. Finally, after attempting some organization of my thoughts, I decided on the most prudent course of action: I vehemently threw down the newspaper and angrily said "Seginus and Matar deserve to rot in Azkaban. It's a downright shame they weren't caught." _Let's just ignore that I could have sent them to Azkaban myself when I dueled them_, I thought. I continued aloud, "That's libel what they're saying about Tarazet, though. He's a counterfeiter, not a Death Eater." Some of the tension seemed to drain out of the room, as though everybody had exhaled a silent sigh. I looked at the trio of sixth years and innocently asked, "Surely the students don't think that I share Seginus's and Matar's beliefs and affiliations?"

"I don't think they do," Harry said slowly. "I think most just find it shocking that a professor like you is related to people like them."

I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. I did not want to have to try and change the beliefs of the entire student body; if it was simple surprise they were suffering from, then it would blow over on its own within a week.

"They were arrested in 1980?" Ron said quizzically, looking at the paper again. "That was before the end of the First War, right?"

I nodded. "There was a rash of arrests once the war ended in 1981, but there were still some arrests earlier than that, during the actual war. I remember they were arrested in January of my Seventh Year, so, yes, that would have been 1980." I almost shuddered as I remembered picking up The Daily Prophet that winter day. The headline announced, in screamingly large font, the arrest of several Death Eaters, and beneath it there had been photos of my two brothers and several other captured men. My friend Paige, whose Muggle parents had been killed by Death Eaters, immediately informed me that she was never going to talk to me again, and all of my acquaintances had likewise distanced themselves from me. Excluding visits from Tarazet, my Seventh Year had been rather lonely. _Tarazet_, my mind thought suddenly. I had been planning to visit him at his job another week, when I did not have so many papers to grade, but I realized that I should probably see him sooner than later; I was sure that he was going to be absolutely furious about The Daily Prophet's article.

* * *

At noon the next day I apparated to Knockturn Alley. If Diagon Alley was quieter than usual out of a fear of Death Eater attacks, Knockturn Alley was quieter than usual out of a fear of being thought a Death Eater for associating with Dark Magic. The few people briskly walking the streets wore heavy cloaks with hoods drawn forward to hide their faces, even though it was a rather warm May day.

Despite its reputation, Knockturn Alley did have a fair number of stores that were not dedicated to Dark Magic, even if their target audiences were still wealthy pureblood families. One such store sold gear for hunting Magical creatures, a very old pureblood past time. Even if hunting dragons and chimeras was illegal, it was still done because it showed that your family was extravagantly wealthy. The equipment, traveling expenses, and bribes to the necessary ministry officials added up to quite the glittering galleon. Next to the hunting gear store was an art studio displaying darkly colored still-lifes, regal looking portraits and landscapes whose skies changed color to match the time of day. A small advertisement on the window announced, "Our highly skilled artists will also paint your or your family's portrait. We guarantee that the personality of those in the painting will exactly match yours'. Inquire for price inside."

I continued strolling down the unevenly cobblestoned street before reaching a very tall yet narrow store whose sign said in worn letters "Dunkel and Finster's". The windows displayed everyday objects--quills, tea kettles, hats, books—and by each object there was a small note card explaining the seemingly ordinary item's enchantment. I stepped into the store, which had endless rows of high shelves stacked with more of the types of objects that I had seen in the window display. I could hear voices echoing from the back of the store, and I started walking towards them.

"Well if you don't think it's possible, clearly it's because you're not trying hard enough," a haughty voice came.

"I'm simply stating what I believe to be a fact," my brother's restrained, forcibly polite voice said. "As I have told you, the spell caster will be in tomorrow. Perhaps you will do better to ask his opinion."

"I most certainly will," the other man angrily snapped. "I will also inform him that he has an incompetent employ who he would be better off firing."

I reached the clearing in the back of the store, where my youngest brother was standing at the cashier's table. He had an annoyed look on his face, but the blond-haired customer standing across from him looked absolutely livid.

"Draco," I exclaimed, surprised to see one of my students.

He whirled towards me, his eyes like saucers and the little color completely draining from his pale face. "P-Professor Colburn."

"What are you doing outside of Hogwarts?" I said coldly, trying to look as imposing and professorly as I could.

"I—I—nothing," he worriedly looked at Tarazet, who was, for his part, regarding our exchange with an almost amused look on his face.

"Odd that you willfully defy a school rule for 'nothing'," I was carefully studying his facial expression.

He seemed to have regained some of his Malfoy composition, for he defiantly replied, "And why shouldn't I be allowed off of Hogwarts grounds during the lunch period?"

"Because you're a student. Have you forgotten that you need permission to visit Hogsmeade, which is a good deal closer than Knockturn Alley? Besides, you're underage," I iterated the variety of ways in which he was breaking the rule.

He annoyingly stuck his nose up in the air. "I'll be of age in less than a month. And what are you doing here, anyway?"

"_I_ am a professor. I am free to leave Hogwarts' grounds as I please," I coldly stated, not appreciating the threatening tone he had used for the last question. "Look, Draco, you're not a child, and I'm not going to treat you as one. I'm going to trust you to return to Hogwarts on your own right now, but don't think you're going to avoid punishment. I'll be talking to the Head of Slytherin."

"Fine," he grumpily strode out of the store.

Tarazet waited until the door slammed shut before he broke into a golf clap and grinned, "Excellent job, professor. The look on his face when you showed up was priceless. Remind me to never cross your path if I'm one of your students."

I smiled at the confidence booster, and replied, "You have your lunch break now, right?"

"Yes, it started ten minutes ago; that twat spilled over into it," we started walking towards the front of the store.

"What was he here for?" I asked curious. I was sure the understood policy of customer confidentiality that extended through most of Knockturn Alley wouldn't keep him from telling me, his sister.

"Well first Malfoy barged in, demanding to see the primary spell caster. I informed him that today was the spell caster's day off, and that he would have to return tomorrow," my brother started the story while we walked towards Diagon Alley. "Malfoy seemed rather aggravated by this, and I told him that I could serve as a consultant, even if he'd have to return to have the item itself charmed. This seemed to annoy him, too, but finally he relented and said that he wanted to know if it was possible to use a primary charm which would activate a secondary charm only if a certain set of requirements were met. 'Well, what sort of requirements?' I said, and I was finally able to drag it out of him that he wanted the charm to be activated only if one specific person touched the object. 'It depends on the secondary charm,' I told him, but he absolutely refused to say what he wanted the secondary charm to be. Malfoy just kept stubbornly asking if the primary charm, the activation charm, could be that specific. I was completely taking a shot in the dark without knowing the secondary charm, but I replied that it could be possible if a recognition charm was used as the activation charm. For that, though, he'd have to bring in the person he wanted along with the object. Malfoy was absolutely horrified by this, and he exploded, 'No! The activation charm has to be cast without his knowledge. He can't come in.' At this point I'm really wondering what sort of charm he wants the activation charm to activate—it sounds downright dangerous, or something—but I don't say anything about that. I just tell Malfoy that I know a person-specific activation charm without using the person is definitely not possible. He becomes absolutely furious and splutters some gibberish about me not trying hard enough, and how he's going to have me fired. That's about when you came in, Liseli."

"Hm," I said pensively, searching my mind for what type of charm Draco could possibly want to be activated. My mind came up blank, though: I had no clue for what he would want a cursed object. Going to a store like Dunkel and Finster's seemed far too elaborate for a simple school prank or grudge. "Well, I'll tell Severus. He might have ideas, for Draco's punishment, if nothing else." I paused and noticed that my brother was suddenly veering towards the opposite side of street. Questioningly, I followed the direction of his nervous steps and was about to ask what he was doing when I looked at the side of the street we had just crossed away from. I almost burst out laughing: he was avoiding walking directly in front of Gringott's. "The goblins really look on you that disfavorably?"

"They take great pride in the uniqueness of the money they create," Tarazet said with pursed lips. "I doubt they would actually attack me, but I'd rather not push my luck by showing my face. Goblins are notorious for remembering people who have angered or offended them."

The reminder of my brother's counterfeiting activities caused me to remember yesterday's article in The Daily Prophet with a jolt. On the one hand, if he had already read it, I didn't want to bring up a sore subject. On the other hand, if he hadn't seen it, it was important for him to know about it. "Tarazet," I started hesitatingly. "Did you see the front page of yesterday's The Daily Prophet?"

His face visibly darkened and I immediately regretted mentioning it. "I spent an hour trying to convince my employer to not fire me because of that libelous rag. That article made it sound like I was an escaped prisoner on par with Seginus and Matar. Never mind that there's not a scrap of legal evidence to support the accusation that I'm a Death Eater, never mind that I was cleared of all charges," he glowered. "I'm surprised they didn't put a 'Wanted' picture of me right next to Seginus's and Matar's; that would have been more like the Ministry's form of justice."

"The Ministry doesn't write The Daily Prophet," I pointed out, feeling almost guilty that I had been comparatively unaffected by the article. "It'll probably blow over."

"It better," he said bitterly. "I don't want to have to go around for the rest of my life introducing myself as 'Hello, I'm Tarazet Colburn, and by the way, The Daily Prophet is a lying piece of trash.'"

…

A/N: Sorry if the chapter break isn't the best; the chapter as I wrote it was way too long so I had to break it somewhere. On a different note, thanks to grumpirah, Mark Darcy, angelofire, gothic flower, Snape Snape Severus Snape, tibys, and PollyWantCookie for reviewing!! And thank you to everyone for being so patient between chapters :))


	32. The Leaky Cauldron

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Leaky Cauldron**

Tarazet and I continued walking down Diagon Alley, and I decided to change the subject of conversation away from The Daily Prophet article that implied he was an escaped Death Eater. "Do you want to have lunch here?" I pointed at The Leaky Cauldron, which we were walking by at the moment.

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Sure."

We stepped into the entry hall, but instead of the general roar of a crowd greeting us, it sounded as though only one family was in the establishment; the start of the Second War was certainly having its affects. A clearly distinguishable woman's voice was saying, "You may be young and confident that nothing is going to happen, but that's now how the real world is, Bill. Diagon Alley is not as safe as it used to be!"

A man's voice: "Don't worry so much, Mum. You act like Death Eaters are going to stroll in here any moment."

The man's attempt at reassuring his mother seemed to have failed, for she replied in a shrill voice, "And if they do? They'd murder all of us! It seems that you're almost forgetting that Death Eaters are not nice people."

In retrospect, Tarazet and I probably should have picked a better moment to stroll into the main room, where the lunch tables were actually located. The woman seemed to have been nervously regarding the doorway to the entry room as she talked, and when we actually walked through the door, it seemed to startle her. She quickly turned her attention back to a red-haired man with a long ponytail, as though almost embarrassed that she had been regarding the doorway so intently. Sitting next to her there was another man, slightly older with a balding patch of flaming red hair, and on the table in front of them were several half-eaten plates of food. The woman's son continued talking in only a slightly quieter voice. "You're going to scare yourself to death before any Death Eaters lay their hands on you." I gave Tarazet an ironic smirk, and he responded by looking at the woman and then rolling his eyes. _As though we're going to start murdering random people,_ he seemed to say. I could easily hear every word as the younger man continued speaking, "Now, I'm on my lunch break from Gringotts, and I want to share a nice, calm, relaxing lunch with my parents. Is that so much to ask?"

The red-haired man opposite of him exhaled and added to the conversation in a rational tone. "Molly has a point. The world is a dangerous place today. You can't trust anybody or anything, nowadays. Constant vigilance, as Alastor says."

Bill replied in a tired, exasperated voice. "And why not? I'm tired of everybody living in constant fear. You-Know-Who is using that fear to keep us caged in and weak. Without that fear he'd have nothing. I mean, Merlin, everybody's too terrified to even talk to their neighbors! Everybody treats everybody else as a potential threat; even Mum keeps regarding the man and the woman that just took a seat as though they could start an attack any second now."

"Bill!" the woman warningly hissed, as though she thought they ought to be talking a bit more quietly.

"No, Mum, I'm tired of it! I'm tired of everybody shutting themselves in!" there was the sound of a scraping chair, and heavy footsteps on the stone floor.

"Bill, what are you doing?" his mother quietly hissed. "Bill!"

I was rather surprised to see the man apparently called Bill suddenly standing next to me. "Hello, I'm Bill Weasley," he greeted me with a devilishly handsome smile and proffered his hand. "How do you do?"

I uncomprehendingly blinked up at him and his outstretched hand. Suddenly something triggered in the back of my mind, and curiously I asked, "Weasley? Are you Ron and Ginny's brother?"

He let out a friendly, booming laugh. "Why, yes I am. How do you know them?"

"I'm their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," I smiled, partially from the surprise. "Liseli Colburn," I politely shook his hand.

"Mum, did you hear that?" Bill turned back towards the table he had stood up from. The woman sitting there looked rather pale, and gave almost a relieved smile. "Small world! Come on, let's share a table," he warmly beckoned towards the table they were sitting at. Tarazet looked rather displeased at the whole situation, but he silently followed me to their table and took a seat. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, eh? Well, no Death Eaters here, right?" he grinned.

"No, no there aren't," I replied, an ironic smile tugging at my lips.

"So how are Ron and Ginny doing in school?" Mrs. Weasley asked quite warmly, now that she wasn't so nervous.

I smiled at her concerned-mother behavior, and generically replied, "They're doing quite well. I was talking with Ron recently, and he mentioned you," I nodded towards Bill. "He said you do something with…curses?"

"Sure do," he casually replied. "I work for Gringotts."

I noticed Tarazet's face darken slightly, and he leaned back a bit further from the table, as though trying to make himself less noticeable. The red-haired woman jumped in, in her warm manner, "I just realized I never properly introduced myself. Molly Weasley," she offered her hand in a manner similar to Bill.

"Arthur Weasley," the balding man next to her likewise extended his hand to me. With all the introductions going around, he looked expectantly at my brother. Tarazet stubbornly stayed silent, though, which left Mr. Weasley to turn towards me and cheerfully say, "So who's the chap with you?"

"Ah, this is my—" I hesitated. My brother? My friend? My acquaintance? Some random stranger off the street who sat next to me? The Daily Prophet article accusing Tarazet of being a Death Eater had come out only yesterday; did I really want to prove that I associated with him, still? I felt a pang of guilt; at the same time, I didn't want to be Deneb, the heartless, scheming one, and Tarazet _was_ my brother and friend. They would probably discover that, anyway. "This is my brother, Tarazet," I finally finished.

Bill looked as though a bolt of lightning had just struck him, he looked so surprised. He whipped his head towards me and hastily said, "What did you say your surname was? Colburn?" Without waiting for a response he turned towards my youngest brother and said with wide eyes "Are you really Tarazet Colburn?"

There were the beginnings of a sneer on my brother's face as he silkily replied, "If I were you I wouldn't listen to a word The Daily Prophet writes, because—"

"What? No, I don't read The Daily Prophet. I haven't read it since it wrote all of those libels about Harry," Bill interrupted him. "I just mean, you're Tarazet Colburn? You're—you're famous in the industry you know that?" Tarazet blinked at him, the partial sneer frozen on his face. "The banking industry," the red-haired man quickly clarified. When there was no response he added, "I mean, you're the counterfeiter, aren't you?"

"I—" my youngest brother started, clearly unsure what to say. After a moment of deliberation he finally replied, "Yes, I am."

"Genius! Just genius! What you did, I mean," Bill sounded absolutely ecstatic and was energetically gesticulating with his hands. "Of course I don't condone it," he added in only a slightly more somber tone, before breaking into a smile and energetically continuing, "But, just, wow! And when you did it, you had to replicate all of the charms you cast, too! What was it, something like two hundred million galleons?"

A faint pink tinge appeared on my brother's normally pale face and, having known him for as long as I did, I could tell that the faint twitching of his lips was him trying to keep a proud smirk from appearing on his face. "Something like that," he mumbled in a rather pleased tone.

Bill placed his elbows on the table and leaned a bit forward, before saying in an almost conspiring tone, "You know the Goblins never figured out how you did it? Sure, they added a bunch of different types of defensive, identifying and anti-replication charms to the money supply, but they're just taking a stab in the dark. It's amazing! How on earth did you do it?"

"Ah, I don't believe I should discuss that," Tarazet replied delicately, the proud smirk still threatening the corners of his mouth.

"Aw, alright, I get that," Bill looked mildly disappointed, but he still gave a friendly grin as he casually leaned back in his chair.

Mrs. Weasley leapt in in the pause that followed, "I don't know if Ron already told you this, too, Liseli, but Arthur's head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects." She beamed and put a hand on his shoulder. It was almost cute how proud she was of her husband, as though she couldn't help but spontaneously burst out and list his accomplishments.

I smiled indulgently, "That's nice. What does he do?"

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed that there are a lot of items being sold which are purported to defend against Death Eaters," Mr. Weasley explained.

I raised an eyebrow. I had noticed stands selling defensive items, but I had never paid enough attention to realize their goal was to explicitly defend against Death Eaters. "So if garlic wards off vampires, what wards of Death Eaters?" I humorously asked.

He replied with an appreciative laugh. "If you ask the people selling these things, they'll tell you just about anything, as long as it's an expensive anything. Our main goal is to prevent the public from believing them and buying useless, or even dangerous, items."

"That sounds interesting," I said generically. I suppose if he was actually analyzing the objects, it'd be interesting, but it sounded more like boring police work, than anything.

The red-haired man seemed to agree with me for he half-heartedly replied, "It is, but sometime I miss my old job. I used to work at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office." The tone he continued in was energetic, and he started gesticulating with his hands in a manner reminiscent of his son. "It was fascinating, seeing all of the Muggle objects, and how creative they are when it comes to doing things without magic. Did you know they have these devices—airplanes, they call them—which can fly and transport hundreds of people at once? And they stay up in the air, without a speck of magic! It's simply amazing. Oh, here I'm talking your ear off, when you may already know all about them, for all I know," he finished abashedly.

I let out an encouraging laugh, "That's alright. I didn't take a Muggle Studies class when I was at Hogwarts, so I've never heard about air…uh, whatever you said they were called."

"Okay," Mr. Weasley responded cheerfully. "I take it you don't have any Muggle parents either, if you've never heard of airplanes?"

Tarazet narrowed his eyes and coldly snapped, "We're purebloods."

The older man's eyes opened wide in a rather innocent look. "Oh, no, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against people with Muggle parentage. I know a lot of people are suddenly turning on people who aren't 100% pureblood, but I think that's ridiculous. There's absolutely nothing wrong with Muggles or Muggleborns."

I nodded, and let out a vague sound of consent while regarding Tarazet out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, my brother was enough of a Slytherin to know when to hold his tongue. "Merlin!" Bill suddenly let out, while looking at his wrist. "It's already past 12:30. I was supposed to go back to Gringotts so the next guy could go on his lunch break. I should run," he hastily added and stood up from the table.

His father regarded his own watch and also stood up, "I should probably be getting back to the Ministry, too."

Mrs. Weasley looked almost left out, and after a second she followed suit, standing up and pushing her chair in. "It was lovely meeting you two," she smiled at us, and with that the three of them strode towards the exit.

As soon as the door swung shut, Tarazet hissed after them in a barely audible whisper, "Blood traitors…"

…

A/N: So this is the continuation of last chapter. Next chapter is going to be pretty action-filled, and Snape makes an appearance, too. Also, I wanted to let you all know that once I get out for winter break, updates will be back to a chapter every two or three days. Anyways, I want to give huge "thank yous" to tibys, grumpirah, Mark Darcy, angelofire and PollyWantCookie for reviewing! On yet another tangent, as a general heads up I'm slowly switching to a new account. I'll finish posting 'One Day at a Time' under this account, but anything else is going to go under that account. (So feel free to bookmark it, if you want *hopeful grin*).


	33. Out, out, brief candle!

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Out, out brief candle!**

I told Severus about Draco's excursion outside of Hogwarts, but he seemed more focused on the details of what Draco had been attempting to purchase than on the rule-defying aspect of his visit to Knockturn Alley's Dunkel and Finster's. He did not say it explicitly, but it seemed that the incident had some meaning to him. As Tarazet told me, the Potions Master had even gone to my brother to hear first-hand what had happened at the store.

A few weeks later, I was leaving late at night for a Death Eater meeting when I saw Draco once again breaking school rules and, once again, I didn't know his motives. He was alone, and furtively and quickly walking towards Hogsmeade. I frowned, tempted to catch him in his rule-breaking stunt even though I knew that I shouldn't wait any longer before apparting to the meeting. Having to traverse a fair distance before being outside of the apparation-barrier, I was already always the last person to appear, and I didn't want to push my luck with the commander of the regiment. With a resigned sigh, I touched my Dark Mark and reappeared in a darkened alley after a moment of disorientation. It almost seemed as though I was early, because less than half of my regiment was standing there, but the commander quickly informed us otherwise. "Listen up, folks. This isn't our standard type of attack. We're attacking a specific house this time. The Dark Lord normally gives that type of task to higher ranking regiments, but He's entrusted it to us this time. That means we can't screw it up, understand? We're at half strength right now to save man power. There's one of us per one of them, plus me. As far as attacks on specific families go, this should be a piece of cake. It's the standard kill with a clean retreat and the house is in a completely Muggle neighborhood." I felt my stomach twist; I always tried to avoid attacking, killing, individuals if I could, but it didn't seem like this was going to be one of those times I could. The head of our regiment continued, "Our focus is a Mudblood who recently applied for a job at the Ministry. We have to show the world that we're not going to stand for _them_ trying to corrupt the Ministry. Alright, move out."

The four of us quickly strode down the street, not bothering to concealing ourselves; we didn't have to worry about the neighbors calling Aurors, because the Muggles would not recognize our robes as characteristic of Death Eaters. Come to think of it, Muggles probably didn't even know what Death Eaters were. "They don't even have an anti-alohomora charm on their doorknob," the commander incredulously whispered to us as he opened the front door. Their house was rather nice, and the furnishings bespoke of comfort and luxury without extravagance. Instead of the sofa in their living room being turned towards the fireplace, as was standard with wizarding families, it was turned towards a large black box. _Muggle culture has the oddest quirks_, I thought, regarding the plain black box and wondering what purpose it could possibly serve. We were not interested in Muggle culture, though, most certainly not, and once we had determined there was nobody on the first floor, the four of us quietly climbed the thickly carpeted staircase up to the second story. "Split up," the commander whispered, remaining at the top of the stairs. One of us walked through the first doorway in the hall, and another through the next one, leaving the lit room at the end of the hall to me. My stomach was doing nervous flips as I cautiously stepped down the hall as quietly as possible, my wand out and ready. In the lit study, a woman with long curls was sitting at a mahogany desk, her back foolishly to the door. She was tapping a pencil on the desk, muttering thoughts to herself and pausing to scribble something down every few moments. Adrenaline was frantically coursing through my veins and my heart felt as though it was about to explode from nervousness as I lifted my wand. I could not decide whether it would be fairer to give her a chance to fight back, or to silently kill her with her back turned so she would not even know what was happening. My decision was made for me, though, for when I took another step into the room a floor board creaked.

"Honey, what are you doing up so late? You have that business proposal you have to present in the morning," the woman murmured, and there was something oddly familiar about her voice. I froze, unsure what to do. She had clearly mistaken me for her husband, her husband who would soon be dead if he was not already. "Honey?" she said quizzically at my silence and she made to turn around.

"_Accio_ wand!" I frantically yelled.

She whirled in my direction and a look of unspeakable terror appeared on her face. She could not see behind my mask, but a look of horror had also appeared on my face, and just as she mouthed "No, no, no," I also mouthed that word repeatedly. Her long, thin face, and brilliantly jade colored eyes were familiar, far, far too familiar. I couldn't believe it was her, I simply couldn't. Would the universe be this cruel? I had told Severus a while ago that I did not know if my Muggle-born friend Paige Collins had survived the First War, but the answer cruelly stood in front of me now: she had survived the First War, but she would not survive the Second War.

"Please, have mercy!" Paige pleaded, knowing that there was nothing she could do to defend herself against an armed witch. "If not on me, at least on my step-daughter! You're a human being, you must have a heart. Please, I'm begging you!" she had sunk to her knees and clasped her hands together in a near praying motion, while I stood rooted to the spot, too shocked and horrified to move. "You—you're a woman, do you not have children of your own? Or nephews or nieces, or even the children of friends? Could you imagine killing one of those children, one of those precious angels? Please, have mercy," her voice cracked and her green eyes were filling with tears.

I looked frantically around the room, thoughts tearing through my mind. Was there anything I could do? I could give her back her wand. She could stun me but, no, that wouldn't work: she would be overpowered by the remaining three Death Eaters. The room had a window, I could let her leap from it and flee. No, that wouldn't work: the door to the room was open. The other men in my regiment would hear the commotion and catch us. We could—we could--

"Colburn! What are you doing?" my commander barked and I jumped, startled to find him standing so close to me.

"C-Co-Colburn?" Paige's voice cracked again, only this time with a horrified tone. I did not think it possible, but her eyes opened even wider. She looked directly at my masked face and whispered, "L-Liseli?"

"Why haven't you killed her yet?" my commander snapped, standing by my shoulder.

"I—I— " I frantically searched for some answer, any answer that would allow one or both of us to escape unscathed. Paige's eyes were desperately searching my mask, a glimmer of helpless hope in her eyes.

My mind came up pitifully dry of excuses and the commander barked again, "Kill her now. That's an order, Colburn. Don't forget that defying an order is punished by death."

I turned back towards Paige, Paige my Hogwarts friend, Paige who I had stood next to while waiting to be called up to the Sorting Hat.

Tremors were running through my entire body and my arm was shaking too much to hold my wand still.

Paige who I had shared a boat with when I crossed the lake to Hogwarts for the first time, Paige who had sympathized with my fights with my brothers, having several brothers herself.

My arm still shaking uncontrollably, my heart feeling as though it was about to explode out of my chest from over-exertion, I slowly raised my wand.

Paige who I had studied with, Paige who I had played Quidditch with, Paige who was kneeling on the floor, looking at me with an unbelieving look, pleadingly whispering my name.

I removed my mask, her horrified eyes glued to my face. I wanted her to see the pained look there, the desperate apology written in the anguished creases that screamed I was just following orders, that it was not my fault I valued my life too much to lose it by disobeying orders. A whisper left my lips: "Avada Kedavra,"

Paige the dead Mudblood.

"Don't let me catch you hesitating like that again," the commander turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, where the other two Death Eaters were waiting. I looked at her glassy green eyes, and put my mask back on, numb. The four of us returned outside, where the commander bellowed "MORSMORDRE!" A glittering green skull appeared above the house, last relic of the three departed souls, and the other Death Eaters disapparated. My eyes were glued to the Dark Mark and I was seized by an insane urge to run back into the house, to do something, anything, to remedy what had happened.

It is a known fact that the dead cannot be brought back, though, and instead I apparated back to Hogwarts and numbly trudged toward the Slytherin dungeons. The enclosed confines of my quarters felt like a suffocating prison, and I fled towards the heights and freedom of the Astronomy tower. I hadn't brought a cloak, but I didn't mind; the cold sliced through the numbness and reminded me that I, at least, was still alive. For the most part, though, I did not think or feel. Images flashed before my eyes, unprompted. Paige the eleven-year old. Paige, grief-stricken after her parents were murdered by followers of the Dark Lord. Paige refusing to talk to me once my brothers were arrested for being Death Eaters. I was too absorbed in my memories to realize anything that was going on in the outside world until Severus suddenly appeared and silently took a place next to me. "How'd you know I was here?" I said hollowly.

"I saw you come back from your summons, and I heard your painting slam shut when you left again," he softly explained.

His implicitly supportive presence stabbed through my initial numbness, and it suddenly felt as though an animal was gnawing at my heart, painfully tearing away chunks and allowing emotions to pour out. My throat constricted, and my eyes began to prickle, but I told myself that I would not cry. I don't know how long I quietly stood there, Sev silently by my side, but after a long while I finally stated in strangled voice, "They say the dead find peace." The words reverberated in the still air for many moments, before my constricted vocal chords vibrated again in the form of a question, "What about the living?" Here he silently gazed at me for a long time. I finally turned to him and repeated the question, my voice cracking. "What about the living, Sev?"

He looked away and said in a pained tone, "I don't know. I've—I've asked myself that many times."

After a moment he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, and it all became too much. The dam broke and tears started pouring down my face. Sev placed an arm around my shoulders but, instead of quieting my sobs, that near-invitation for release only intensified them. "She was—she was my friend," I inarticulately bawled, "And I ki—kil—And I—kil—kill—ed her," it took me many attempts to form the words but that didn't matter, because Sev had scooped me up in his arms and now I had a bastion of strength instead of a stone wall to cry against, something warm to cry against in the night's cold air, something that was wonderfully, joyously alive in the evening's barren, desolate landscape. Sobs continued to wrack my body, but now I was tightly, desperately holding onto him, him my friend, him my love. We stood there for a long time, with only the sound of my crying disrupting the still, almost peaceful silence of the nighttime. After a while, though, even that sound slowly faded, until only a few tears were silently carving trails down my already wet face and finally those, too, disappeared. Yet we remained standing there, our arms still wrapped each other even as the night sky slowly started to lighten and bring in the new day. I felt overwhelmed with a sense of love for this man who was infinitely caring and compassionate, even if he did not normally broadcast these traits to the world. I lovingly looked up into his obsidian colored eyes, those endless, serene pools of ebony that sparkled with the light of the rising sun, and wished that I could gaze into them forever.

"We should both try and catch some shut-eye before classes start," Sev quietly broke the early morning silence.

I nodded and tore my eyes away from his, before slowly making the trip back to my quarters in the dungeons.

…

A/N: The title of this chapter is a line from Shakespeare's Macbeth because, as stated in an earlier chapter, Paige is the one who gave that play to Liseli. Anyways, a gigantic thank you to angelofire, grumpirah, tibys, gothicflower, argyle owl, PollyWantCookie and Lightest'Ink for reviewing!


	34. Severus

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Severus**

I noticed that Sev's eyes remained glued to me for almost the entirety of the next day. I could see his gaze with my peripheral vision, but whenever I made the slightest movement to turn my head in his direction he immediately averted his gaze, as though pretending that he had not been staring at me the moment before. I assumed he kept looking at me out of concern, as I had been rather distraught the previous night, and I wasn't sure whether to be touched or embarrassed. I still felt wracked by guilt that I had murdered Paige, but I wasn't going to spontaneously start crying again.

With the goal of taking my mind off of Paige, I decided to visit Hagrid in the afternoon. The immense man greeted me into his hut, where Harry and Ron were playing a game of Exploding Snap. Ron seemed to be having an absolute fabulous time, but Harry seemed to be participating only grudgingly, as though there was something else on his mind that was annoying him. Hermione sat at the table, vaguely watching the rising stack of cards, with a facial expression similar to Harry's. "Who's winning?" I attempted a cheerful tone, but instead it came off as neutral, or slightly bored.

"I am," Ron said in an authentically cheerful tone.

I looked around at the otherwise subdued room, and disinterestedly asked, "Where's the Dementor? Everyone seems to be down today."

"We just got back from the kitchens," Harry replied, a slight frown creasing his brow. He placed another card on the growing card pyramid but seemed unfazed when it suddenly collapsed.

I blinked, "How does that relate?"

"Hermione's still going on about SPEW and Kreacher's a git," Ron explained unperturbed, focusing his attention on starting a new card pyramid.

"Kreacher, the Black's house elf?" I said unbelievingly. Regulus had told me about how much he talked with Kreacher, especially after Sirius had left home, and the name had stuck with me. "What's Kreacher doing at Hogwarts?"

"Well after he essentially _killed_ Sirius, we thought it best if other House Elves could keep an eye on him," Harry said bitterly.

"What--? House Elves can't kill their masters," I confusedly stated. Unless one of the other Blacks had given the order Kreacher to kill Sirius? I couldn't imagine Regulus doing something like that, but his parents…I didn't know. They were insane with their views of pureblood supremacy.

"Kreacher didn't literally kill him," Harry angrily said, carelessly collapsing the small card pyramid. "He led my Godfather to his death because that damn House Elf was only devoted to members of the Black family who were Death Eaters." I flinched and my mind leaped to Regulus. Now would be a good time to make sure that I didn't remind them about my relationship to the younger Black brother. "Sirius hated that bloody house, and having to be cooped up in it with all the reminders of his childhood was cruel—and when Kreacher gave him a reason to leave," Harry's loathing voice cracked on the last part of the sentence, and it was clear his Godfather's death still pained him. "Sirius hated them, all of them--his pureblood fanatics of parents, constantly screaming at all of us through their portraits, Kreacher, who would howl and howl about having to serve anybody except proper purebloods. All of his family were avid supporters of Voldemort; they thought he had the right idea. You know his brother joined the Death Eaters when he was our age—sixteen?" the Boy-Who-Lived was practically ranting now, his eyes focused on an empty spot of air in front of him, as though forgetting that there were other people in the room. "I can't imagine handing yourself over to the epitome of evil when you're only sixteen, agreeing with those beliefs, being willing to torture and kill innocent people."

I frowned and felt annoyance start to surge through my veins. He seemed to be perfectly fitting the Gryffindor stereotypes I remembered from my school years: an idealist, one who saw everything as black and white, without a shade of grey between the two extremes. I could practically imagine how his mind worked: all Death Eaters were completely evil, and once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Normally, I would have bit my tongue and not said anything that might make me look worse or come off as insulting. As it was, though, my failure to defend my friend Paige kept running through my mind, and I felt a surge of anger at somebody insulting another one of my friends. "Regulus regretted joining the Death Eaters," I snapped out the least objectionable retort I could think of.

As it was, there was almost a stunned silence, stunned that I had not only interrupted, but contradicted Harry's pained spiel. The messy-haired boy struggled to maintain a polite voice as he addressed me, his professor, "From what I heard he got in too far, chickened out, and was killed."

"It doesn't surprise me that Sirius would have twisted the story like that," I said coolly, restraining myself from using a harsher tone.

"Maybe you an' Sirius just heard different versions of the story? Who knows which one's right; it doesn't matter," Hagrid gently intruded into the conversation, clearly hoping to bring about a resolution.

"Impossible," I said coldly. "Who do you think told Sirius about Regulus's death?"

"Who?" Ron asked curiously.

I blinked at him. Clearly he had missed the rhetorical nature of my question. "I did. I doubt he would have bothered to find any information from another source; he never cared about his brother."

Harry frowned suspiciously. "How d'you know so many details about Regulus's death, then?"

"Seginus told me," I smoothly lied. In actuality, Tarazet had been in the same Death Eater regiment as Regulus, and it was him who had informed me. Hagrid and the trio of students didn't know that Tarazet was a Death Eater, though, so I thought it safer to use Seginus's name.

"So what's your brother's story about Regulus's death, then?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"A few days before his death, Regulus told me he was starting to disagree with the Dark Lord's beliefs. He was starting to think that maybe we should treat those we had seen as underlings with compassion and understanding. As Seginus told me, Regulus was so passionate about his change beliefs that he stopped coming to Death Eater meetings, before disappearing entirely, presumably dead. Frankly, I wouldn't call dying for your beliefs 'chickening out', as Sirius evidently did," I coldly finished, trying to push away any memories I had of Regulus and when Tarazet had informed me that he was dead.

The four Gryffindors in the room accepted my recounting of Regulus's death with an almost stunned silence, and I decided I didn't feel like staying there much longer. I stood up and politely lied, telling them that I had a professors' meeting to go to.

* * *

After that the days began to quietly and unnoticeably slip by. Classes, papers, tests, followed one after another. The stabs of guilt over Paige's death and the memories flashing before my eyes slowly became less frequent, but Severus still consistently regarded me out of the corner of his eye and seeked me out for conversations. I noticed this persistent, yet almost secretive gaze on me one evening in early June when I was reading in the teacher's lounge. He was sitting on a green couch against the opposite wall and pretending to be enveloped in a thick book. I could feel his eyes on my face and I suddenly flicked my eyes away from my book, towards his sallow face. His eyes opened slightly wider, as though he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, and he immediately brought his eyes back down to the text in his hands.

Neither of us said a word, but soon after I felt his gaze on me again. I didn't attempt to catch him in the act a second time, and instead I stubbornly stayed focused on the textbook in front of me that I was marking up. After I finished the chapter, I stood up and walked towards the door when Sev suddenly blurted out, "Where are you going?" He said it almost nervously and, actually, he was acting rather oddly. I looked at his eyes in a scrutinizing manner but was unable to read any emotions in the black orbs of his eyes.

"I'm taking a break. Going to get some fresh air," I blinked, wondering why tonight he was asking, when he hadn't asked any previous nights.

"I'll come with you," he stood up and followed me in a would-be self-assured way.

The chilly night air was quite welcome in comparison to the castle's stuffy air and we casually strolled towards the smooth, unbroken black glass that was the Hogwarts' lake. "So, looking forward to handing out O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s? Or not handing out, depending on the student," I grinned, knowing what high standards the potion master had.

"Hm. I suppose," he replied.

He seemed rather disinterested in small talk, and in my next attempt at conversation I decided to bring up our shared years at Hogwarts, hoping that this similarity might lead to a conversation lengthier than his earlier three word response. This was slightly harder than I expected, as I had seen him precious few times while I was at Hogwarts, and it took seeing the Whomping Willow off in the distance for me to stupidly blurt out, "Do you remember the Whomping Willow?" I mentally slapped myself as soon as the words had left my mouth. _How tactful_, Liseli, I thought to myself.

Severus seemed as puzzled by my choice of conversation as I was, and he questioningly drawled, "Last I checked, the Whomping Willow still existed."

"Er—I mean—do you remember when we were at Hogwarts, and, uh," I desperately searched my mind for a way to smooth out the invading awkwardness. "And, uh, do you remember that time when the Whomping Willow was covered in lilies? From the roots to the tip of the branches? The Whomping Willow didn't even protest. I've always wondered who did it."

His voice was dripping with disgust as he replied, "James Potter did that in an attempt to _woo_ Lily Evans in the winter of their fourth year. It was hideous."

"Oh." I looked away awkwardly for having brought up what was evidently a sore topic, before bravely trying again, "I thought it was rather beautiful. It's a rather rare sight to see hundreds of blooming flowers in the middle of a snow-covered landscape."

Severus remained silent and a rather drawn expression appeared on his face. "I don't like lilies very much."

I looked at him a bit quizzically, before replying with a laugh, "I've never known anybody to have a grudge against a type of flower before."

"No, no, nothing of the sort," he hastily replied, emotion leaking into his voice. "I still like lilies…just not as much as I used to. I've started thinking that there are more beautiful flowers."

I smiled at his rather odd behavior and teasingly said, "I've never known anyone to have such specific tastes in flowers. You must have been a flower arranger in another life." A long silence stretched after my words as we continued silently and aimlessly circling the grounds. Finally I spoke again, "I think I'm going to go back into the castle. It's starting to get a bit cold."

He silently nodded and together we started heading in the general direction of the entrance. We were still a fair distance away though, when he suddenly stopped and turned towards me. "Lee," he stated my name. A torn, hesitant look was visible on his face, and I was shocked to see his normally hidden emotions so visible. "Lee, I wanted to ask you something," he started again. "What do you think of love?"

"Er—pardon?" It took a good deal of effort to squeak the words out when it felt that my heart had suddenly taken residence in my windpipe.

"This grand idea of Dumbledore's," he hastily, almost nervously clarified. "What do you think of it?"

My heart relaxed so that it was now around the level of my collarbone. "What a Gryffindor obsession," I let out a hiccup of a laugh intended to cover the quivering of my voice. Love was _not_ something I wanted to talk about with Severus, lest a hint of my feelings for him shine through.

"You mean the Gryffindors and their ideals?" He sounded almost taken aback at my sentence. "I suppose I see what you mean. Dumbledore seems to believe that love is the highest power that one can serve."

"Yes, exactly, that's such a Gryffindor point of view," I excitedly exhaled, glad that I was obviously distancing myself from the idea of love; I began to calm down now that I ran little risk of Severus discovering my feelings for him, little risk of ruining my friendship with him. "Gryffindors are always going on about their ideals and how they would die for their ideals. I would never die for love. Kill, maybe, but not die."

Eyes open a fraction of a centimeter wider than his normal facial expression, Sev looked past me and drawled in a carefully emotionless voice, "I see. And you say this from the authoritative position of someone in love?"

My heart immediately leapt into the back of my throat and kept any words from leaving my vocal chords for what felt like eternity. Finally, after picking a piece of lint on his right shoulder to stare at while I replied, I lied, "Of course I'm not in love with anyone. That wouldn't be very Slytherin, would it?"

"You don't think Slytherins can love?" he immediately replied, shocked, almost offended.

"Er—well—no, I don't mean that—" Damn. I didn't want him to think I was heartless, but that seemed to be the way I was heading. "I just mean—uh—do you love anyone? Er—asking this as one Slytherin to another, of course." Okay, not the best save, but there were undoubtedly worst things I could have said. I continued to focus all of my attention on the piece of lint.

Severus didn't seem to have gotten the 'focus-all-of-your-attention-on-a-piece-of-lint' memo that I was following, though, for his eyes were intently fixed on my avoiding face. After his not replying for a few seconds, I hazarded a split second glance at his face before averting my gaze again. "Yes, I do," his thoughtful, drawn-out words came to my ears. A mere moment of—hesitation? before he continued, "I do love someone. And it's a shame, because I just found out that apparently she doesn't love me back."

I immediately started sorting through my thoughts, barely noticing when he turned back towards the castle, his stride clearly indicating that he did not mind if I stayed frozen to my spot and he walked alone. _I do love someone_. Those words caused a painful twisting feel in my chest cavity. Of course he could love someone. He could have a life outside of Hogwarts, even if I wasn't privy to it, and the fact that there could be some woman (in my mind she was beautiful and innocent, which only made me hate her more) that he could love was not improbable.

_She doesn't love me back. _That part of his sentence brought me a guilty glee. Part of me was saddened by his unhappiness, but a less selfless part of me was glad to hear that he had no reciprocated relationship—meaning he would spend more time at Hogwarts and therefore more time near me.

_I just found out._ That part puzzled me. How could he have just found out that this woman—whoever she was—didn't love him? As far as I knew he had been at Hogwarts teaching all day, and I had seen him reading for the entire evening. Come to think of it, I had seen him almost every—no, every—evening this week. Even the past weekend I had consistently seen him wandering the halls, talking to me at meals, even paying a visit to my quarters, assumedly because he thought I might still be distraught over Paige's death.

When on earth could he have had time to leave Hogwarts to see whoever-she-was when I had been spending so much time with him?

Severus had just about reached the front steps of Hogwarts when he cast a slow, long glance in my direction, his face a combination of—sadness? disappointment? regret?—and that odd, foreign look on his face that I had seen an inordinate amount of times but never been able to identify. It was rather disconcerting to see so much emotion on his face, especially as he had not seemed so devastated at the beginning of the evening, so why should such an emotion be spilling through his normal mask now?

_Because he didn't feel this way at the beginning of the evening_. That was the explanation which immediately struck me. A rising tide of realization slowly crept over me. What was the only thing different between the start of the evening and now? He had talked to me. Who did he spend a disproportionate amount of time with? Me. Who had said she didn't love anyone? Me—oh dear Merlin! Oh dear Merlin, I had said I didn't love him!

I immediately sprinted towards the castle, my mind overflowing with explanations and apologies, of how I was being an idiot, and how I had lied because I was afraid of rejection, afraid of losing his friendship, and to please ignore that because I loved him.

If my life was a book I would have caught up to him in mere seconds and passionately embraced him, all idiocies forgiven, everything cleared up, everything set for a perfect "Happily-Ever-After." Life rarely follows the course a book would, though, and I had made it only a few short meters before I stopped in my tracks. I was still seized by the urge to run after him, but my legs seemed to refuse to move; a pain had flashed up my left arm, and my Dark Mark was burning insistently, a constant reminder that I had no time to waste before apparating. I could not miss the Death Eater meeting. _I don't have a choice. I have to follow orders_, I pitifully attempted to defend my actions with that oft-repeated phrase. Paige's glassy eyes and Sev's pained look suddenly flashed before my eyes. Saying I had to follow orders was beginning to sound hollow.

With one last look at the inviting glow of the castle's front entrance, I turned and stalked my way to the darkness of the Forbiddean Forest, where I would be able to apparate to the meeting

pleading with myself: I had to follow orders. I had to follow orders.

…

A/N: Well, what do you think? Opinions? Sorry it took me so long to put up this chapter—I made the mistake of trying to multitask by writing another story at the same time as this one and, yeah, it didn't work quite the way I intended it to. (That being said, I now have a story about Lucius Malfoy up under my other account if you want to check it out.) I should be updating One Day at a Time in a few days, also.

Eep, sorry for that long author's note. One last quick thing: Thank you so much to Mark Darcy, PollyWantCookie, Lightest'Ink, tibys, argyle owl, and the nameless anonymous reviewer for reviewing!


	35. The Importance of Chess Pieces

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Importance of Chess Pieces**

The Death Eater attack I had been called upon to participate in had been the standard terrorize-Muggles, and I had gone mindlessly, numbly through the motions of causing chaos, as I had done dozens of times before. I arrived back late at night and angrily stalked through the quiet stone halls, desperately hoping that by some stroke of luck Sev would be patrolling the halls and I would see him. Alas, despite all my weaving through various halls there was not a soul to be found. That is, excluding the snogging fourth years who I immediately gave a week of detention to. Perhaps that was a bit unfair considering how close we were to finals, but it was far past curfew and I was in a rather foul mood. I crawled into bed that night, exhausted from the attack, and my only ray of light thinking that I would see Severus in a few hours at breakfast. Unlike his normal punctual self, though, he wasn't there.

"Did Severus already stop by for breakfast?" I asked Sprout in a would-be nonchalant tone.

"No, I haven't seen him. If he stops by, do you want me to give him any messages?" she asked, clearly hoping to be helpful.

"No. No, thank you," I immediately replied, aware that any message I had for him I would not want to be conveyed by another person. It struck me that I actually had no clue what I would say to him if I saw him. Somehow "Sorry, I picked the Death Eaters over you. Nothing personal, it's just the whole execution-as-punishment-if-you-miss-a-meeting sort of swayed me" didn't sound very romantic. I stayed at the breakfast table until the beginning of classes to be sure he was not coming to breakfast, at which point I, rather unprofessionally, sprinted towards my classroom and started the lesson ten minutes late.

I stayed in the Grand Hall for all of lunch, also, and my second attempt to catch Severus resulted in me being late to another one of my class periods. Him completely missing two meals in a row could not be a coincidence; I felt sure he was avoiding me. At the end of classes for the day, my feet dragged me down to the dungeons, towards Slughorn's old classroom. I saw the number of students streaming down the hallway increase as I approached what was most likely still the potions classroom. Judging by how loud my heartbeat was, my heart had taken up residence somewhere in my ear canal, and with every step further my feet felt as though they were being weighed down by larger and larger lead blocks.

I had just reached the doorway to the classroom, when I noticed Hermione also walking towards the open door. "Professor Colburn," she exclaimed pleasantly. "What are you doing in the dungeons?"

"Oh, uh, I just came to see Sev—erus. Professor Snape." It was awfully hard to concentrate on what I was saying when I was focusing just about all of my energy on keeping my heart from breaking my ribs with its frantic beating.

"You know, I just realized I forgot my textbook at my desk. I have to dash in and grab it; I can tell him you're here," she smiled pleasantly."

I tried to issue an insincere "Thank you" from my mouth, but the word was lost in my suddenly dry, constricted throat. I was about to see him, and I had absolutely no clue what to say. A million miles away I heard Hermione's voice from the classroom. "Professor Snape, Professor Colburn's here to see you."

A pause. It struck me: what if he did not love me? What if I was horribly misreading what he had said by over-analyzing it and twisting it to my own benefit? Or what if he no longer loved me after my implied rejection of him? I suddenly felt as though a bag of bricks was resting on my ribcage, and I had to struggle just to keep breathing. Then, from the classroom, came an emotionless drawl, each word quietly snapped out. "Very well."

I heard footsteps coming towards the doorway and my legs no longer felt like they had been chiseled out of lead blocks. Nervous adrenaline was pumping through my veins and suddenly I wanted to do anything in the world except see Severus. I sprinted down the hall and ducked into a secret passage that I had discovered a long time ago, while I was a student. The cinderblocks quickly swiveled shut behind me and I pressed myself against the wall of the dark tunnel. "_Lumos_," I muttered, my ragged breaths disturbing the dusty silence. I mentally cursed and wished that, just for a moment, I had that Gryffindor bravery. I sighed. No, brave was certainly not an adjective that could be used to define me right now, as I crawled down the tunnel to avoid a simple conversation. When I stepped into the main corridor it was deserted, and I breathed a sigh of relief. While tempted to go to the kitchen for dinner, out of an attempt to avoid Severus, I realized that I would probably be more likely to avoid him by eating in the Great Hall. True to my guess, he remained absent for the entire extent of that meal also.

_I can't go avoiding him like this forever_, I reprimanded myself as I paced the small confines of my quarters. _We might as well clear the air before we unexpectedly run into each other, right? Because that's going to happen eventually. _In a burst of bravery I strode towards his quarters and knocked on its door. Just as I finished knocking the same thought struck me as had earlier in the day: _What am I going to say?_ This realization was accompanied by a surge of fear and another urge to avoid the conversation, but another thought leapt into my mind, one that tore at my heart, _If I don't_ _talk to him_, _he's going to think that I don't love him. _The moment of decision as to whether to flee again or not had passed, for the portrait to his room was creaking open. The black-haired man swung the portrait open and looked down at me, his face an unreadable mask. "Liseli," he curtly greeted me with a nod of the head.

I opened my mouth, expecting words to pour out: a proclamation of love, an apology an explanation—something, anything. But nothing came and instead desperately I blurt out the first thought that went through my head, "Want to play a game chess?"

A slightly fazed look crossed his face before the emotionless mask quickly replaced it. "Very well. I'll meet you in your quarters once I find my pieces." With that he gently closed the door, leaving me to smack my forehead with my palm and silently exclaim, _Chess?_ That's _the best I can come up with? _It wasn't particularly surprising that it had been one of my first thoughts, though. I had played chess an awful lot with my friends at Hogwarts, as it was a common Slytherin past-time.

I walked to my quarters and started searching the closet for my battered chess pieces. I muttered "_Accio_ chess pieces" multiple times, but either they were too buried to move, or I simply hadn't brought them with me when I moved to Hogwarts. There was a knock at my portrait and I swung the door open to see Severus holding a small tweed bag that was making small movements; evidently he had not sprung for one of the more organized boxes for holding one's chess pieces. His eyes flickered over my shoulder and I followed his line of vision, realizing he was looking at the mess at the foot of my closet. "I was looking for my pieces," I sheepishly explained. "I think I must have not brought them with me to Hogwarts."

He gave me an appraising look before he slowly said, "I believe I have an extra set of pieces." I followed him to his quarters where he quickly located another small tweed bag. We set up the rather battered checkered board on a table and I unceremoniously dumped out the contents of the bag he had given me. I was expecting the dark brown, carved wood pieces to stand up, take their places and curse at me for not setting them down more gently. Instead, they just lay there in a heap, the many pieces lying on top of each other. I waited another moment and blinked at them uncomprehendingly. They were neither moving nor talking; it almost seemed as though the animating charm cast on them had worn off.

I looked at the black-haired man sitting across from me at the table and said, "I didn't know the charm could wear off."

Severus's eyes flickered to the unmoving pieces and then back to my face. It almost seemed that he hesitated for a split second before saying, "They were never charmed."

"They're Muggle pieces?" I said, confused as to why on earth a pureblood would bother owning non-charmed chess pieces.

"They were my father's," he said shortly.

"Oh, your father collected Muggle objects?" I tilted my head questioningly. It seemed like that wouldn't be a very respectable past time in most pureblood circles.

"No, my father was a Muggle."

I almost burst into laughter. Purebloods couldn't have Muggles as fathers. It was uncharacteristically silly of him to say something like that, and I suddenly realized with a widening of my eyes that he was serious. _Severus_ had a Muggle parent? Not even a Muggle-born wizard, but just a plain, simple, non-magical Muggle. "You're—you're Muggle-born?" my words echoed disbelievingly.

His eyes narrowed. "My mother was a pureblood. Eileen Prince."

I was still blinking disbelievingly at him with round eyes. Okay, so he was a half-blood, not Muggle-born, but I was still shocked; I had spent the whole school year positive that he was a pureblood, and there was that tiny despicable voice in the back of my head whispering, "You've always said you're fine with inter-blood relations, but were those sentiments sweet-sounding nothings or were they sincere?" My mind seemed to have reached a block and instead of further contemplation I stubbornly stated aloud, "But you're a Death Eater," almost attempting to defend my previous assumption.

"I'm aware," his eyes were glittering dangerously, now. "I'm surprised I didn't realize you were a liar sooner. You pretend to not care about blood purity but I should have realized you did when you kept assuming I was a pureblood—why would you devote any time to thinking about others' blood purity unless you cared?"

"I—I d—on't…" I trailed off, my attention divided between defending myself to the man in front of me and on silencing that nasty, self-doubting voice that said "You always thought that you would never fall in love with someone who wasn't a pureblood. Other people can have interblood relationships, but not you, your blood is _pure_."

Severus roughly started gathering his chess pieces to leave. "I'm sorry if my blood isn't good enough for you," he added in a whisper so cold that it felt like an arctic wind was blowing through the room and freezing me to the bone.

I stared at him, shocked. That frozen sentence sounded familiar, so familiar. It felt like a hammer to the chest when I remembered where I had heard it before.

_I was sixteen, and had just returned to Howarts after a wonderful Winter Break. I had spent Christmas with Regulus at Grimmauld Place, and my parents were excitedly talking with Mr. and Mrs. Black about the prospect of marriage. Regulus and I weren't so sure about marriage at such a young age, but there wasn't anything set for us to argue against, yet. He hadn't returned from break in quite the joyous mood I had, though, and there was something very gloomy about the way he approached me on our first day back._

"_We need to talk," he stated and then, without any further prelude, "My parents say I can't date you anymore."_

_A knife to the heart. It couldn't be true. "What? Why?"_

_Regulus's voice sounded numb, and his gaze remained unblinkingly unfocused. "You're not a pureblood."_

_My eyes became as wide as Galleons. _No_. I had to defend myself against such—such accusations. "I am too a pureblood," I breathlessly, hopelessly stated, knowing that such a label, while easily, passionately accepted by all members of my family, had every reason to be worried about others' scrutiny._

"_Damn it, Liseli! Don't lie to me!" he snapped angrily in a pained voice. "Your Great-Grandmother was blasted off of my own family tree for marrying a Mudblood."_

"_I am too a pureblood," I repeated, rage building in my blood. Rage at Regulus, at my ancestors, at the cruel trickster that fate was. "The last non-wizards and non-witches in my family were my Great-Great Grandparents."_

_"You know the saying," he hissed, "A few drops of mud ruins the whole brew."_

_Regulus hit the ground, a bloody gash across his cheek. I had cast the spell lightning fast, without a single thought crossing my mind, except a single sentence, one which I screamed at him now, "I'M SORRY IF MY BLOOD ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!" He held a hand to his bleeding cheek and looked at me more with shock than anger. Without another word, I spun on my heel and walked away, scalding tears beginning to carve their way down my face._

Regulus and I had eventually reconciled, even though we remained only friends for the rest of his life. After all, if I had refused to be friends with any pureblood elitist, I would not have had a single friend in the house of Slytherin.

But that was then.

And this is now, as they say.

And now a Slytherin who was not a pureblood elitist was sitting across the table from me.

Now a man with less purity of blood was looking at me expectantly with coldly, dangerously glittering eyes.

Now Sev's stated sentence hung in the air_, _and his cold tone could not have contrasted more with mine when I had screamed that sentence over fifteen years ago

_I'm sorry if my blood isn't good enough for you._

Whatever mental block I had, had suddenly vanished. With my only thought to prove this to Sev as quickly as possible, I leaned across the table and, in the split second before I closed my eyes, I saw Sev's eyes open ever so slightly wider, as though unsure or surprised by what I was doing. I knew what I was doing, though, and my lips quickly brushed against his. He looked at me with a dumbfounded look plastered across his sallow features as I nonchalantly started arranging my Muggle chess pieces. "Severus Snape, I don't give a damn if your blood is less pure than mine," I briskly informed him.

"I see," he said hoarsely, and the corners of his lips twitched into a genuine smile.

…

A/N: First off, to let all of you know, updates should now be coming every other day. As always, reviews/opinions are greatly appreciated :D. Also, is Liseli's blood status clear in this chapter? Trying to describe it from the unreliable-first-person-narrator perspective proved to be a bit difficult. (On a random note, Liseli's great-grandparents who were blasted off the Black family tree are intended to be Bob Hitchens and Isla Black, since her mother's maiden name, shown on her tombstone many chapters back, is Hitchens.) As a final note for this chapter, an enormous thank you to Mark Darcy, Mywaychan, gothicflower, tibys and angelofire for reviewing!


	36. Of Poker and Treason

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Of Poker and Treason**

With a sigh, I flipped another page of the fourth years' textbook. "You know, I thought it was the students who were supposed to be insanely busy during finals week," I stated in a matter-of-fact tone to the only other person in the teacher's lounge.

Sev, sitting directly next to me, smirked in response and intertwined his fingers with mine. "You could give them a straightforward, easy, final, but what fun would that be?"

"For them or for me? Unlike you, I don't enjoy having to buy a new bottle of red ink for each student," I teased, a grin forming on my face just from the fact that I was sitting next to him, holding his hand.

"That reminds me, I still have to throw the first years' finals down a flight of stairs," he disinterestedly drawled.

"Is that the newest terminology for grading? So which test gets the highest grade? The one that travels the farthest?" I gave him a teasing smirk in response.

"Well, as I have yet to find a carnivorous flight of stairs, I follow the papers with bottles of red ink, and whichever one emerges unscathed receives the O," he painted the ridiculous situation with a perfectly serious face.

" 'The' O? You only hand out one O per exam?" I accompanied my words with a slightly incredulous look, trying to decipher the extent of his seriousness.

"And you don't? Tsk tsk, you spoil the students, Lee," he replied with a disbelieving, scolding air before the slightly upturned corners of his lips gave him away.

I shot him a sardonic look before saying in a more light-hearted tone, "Want to take a break from work? I still need pay back for you beating me in chess yesterday." I took a deck of cards out of my pocket and held them up.

"Cards are not equal to chess," he scoffed. "Chess is a game of skill, wit, strategy."

"Well, a chess board is a bit heavy to carry around in my pockets for spontaneous five minute breaks." Without waiting for a further response, I started dealing a five-card hand to each of us. "Poker?"

Sev made a generic acquiescing sound before condescendingly stating, "Poker is one of those card games based almost entirely on luck. Being victorious in poker is near meaningless."

"You're just saying that because you know I'll win," I grinned. "Not that it matters, because I already beat you in chess the day before yesterday."

"And I defeated you the day before that. And the day before that," he smugly drawled.

"Well I—" With a frown, I paused and started counting back the days of the week. Unfortunately, we had been too busy with finals to see each other for anything longer than a short break in the evenings, so more elaborate dates were on hold in favor of quick chess games. "Well, I beat you the day before that. So once I beat you in this game of poker, that means we're tied," I gave him a playful grin, knowing his low opinion of poker.

The moving images on the cards started protesting in their miniscule voices that they were being ignored in favor of a debate, until we finally devoted a fraction of our attention to the cards in our hands; two of the adjacent cards in my hand seemed to be engaged in a fierce argument with each other. "Get rid of _him,_" Merlin, the Ace, pointed towards the adjacent Two.

"What? No! Don't get rid of me," the Two's drawing of a Squib retorted. "I might be useful. What if you draw another two? Then you'll regret it!"

"Have you ever read Nacht's 'The Philosophy of Dark Magic'?" Severus started a new topic of conversation, while leisurely ignoring the protesting cries of the cards he was exchanging.

"No, I haven't," I replied, only half-paying attention as I continued to debate which cards to exchange.

"I think you'd like it. One of the few existing books on Dark Magic which is actually rational," he continued the conversation while spreading his hand to reveal a pair of threes.

"Pair of sixes," I shuffled my hand back into the deck before replying, "That certainly seems like a rare species of book. What's its argument?"

"The media seems to find it quite the controversial book." His acidic tone implied his opinion of the media, before he switched to a more respectful tone for his next sentences, "Nacht's argument is essentially that there is no 'Dark' aspect of Dark Magic that is a fundamental aspect of the spells themselves. Any such judgments of its nature are entirely dependent both on the societal standards of the era and the circumstances of their use."

I tilted my head in a questioning manner. "How is that controversial? That's just fact."

"That's what I think, but we seem to be in a precious minority." The corners of his lips turned up the slightest amount with a hint of a truly genuine smile before he whispered, half to himself, "It's nice to find a kindred spirit."

I was distracted by the sound of the door to the teacher's lounge opening, and reflexively checked myself: was I doing anything to show that Sev and I had recently become more than friends? No, starting the game of poker had necessitated us to stop holding hands and to sit further apart than our normal non-existent separation, where I would sometimes rest my head on his shoulder.

Flitwick casually entered the lounge and squeaked out a greeting to the both of us, to which Sev responded only by raising an eyebrow. We continued our game of poker and the charms professor, thankfully, seemed to be unaware that anything had changed between Severus and I as of last week. Our tacit agreement to not let anyone know that we were—well, whatever we were—seemed to be working successfully.

* * *

It was the next day and I was sitting in my quarters, expectantly waiting for Sev to become bored of emptying bottles of red ink on his students' tests and visit for a game of chess. I heard a sudden knocking on my door, only he was not standing there in a casual, almost bored manner with the small tweed bags of chess pieces in his hand.

As soon as I swung the door open he quickly embraced me, almost as though he had reached the end of a time limit in which he would be allowed to hold me such. "I don't know what's going to happen. Be careful," he said in a worried, almost fearful voice. Fearful? Sev didn't do fear, and the fact that there could even be a hint of that emotion in his voice was enough to terrify me. With a final squeeze of my hand, the normally emotionless Potions Master had gone sprinting down the hall.

"Sev--?" I called out after him quietly. He was gone and, feeling rather lost, I returned to my quarters. Mere moments, later, though, I heard yells and the sound of running feet coming from the Slytherin common room down the hall. My senses already sharpened, I immediately ran towards the entrance to the common room frantically wondering _What's happening?_

Some of the younger Slytherins were crying, while some of the older students were whiter than sheets of paper and looked downright terrified. Yet others were excitedly gossiping with their friends, and a few looked unperturbed by all of the chaos and were lazily stretched out in the high-backed chairs. "What's going on here?!" I yelled over the commotion, determined to get an answer and hoping nobody had noticed the fearful quaver in my voice.

"Death Eaters are attacking the castle," Theo Nott calmly replied.

I think if I had opened my eyes any wider they would have popped right out of my head. "Order! There will be order!" I yelled, knowing that Severus would not be returning any time soon to deal with the students of _his_ house. The din dimmed only slightly and I still had to yell my next sentence, "Everybody, stay in the Common Room! Remain calm, no Death Eaters are going to attack Slytherins as long as you stay here and you stay together. Do not let anybody in or out of the common room until further orders are given to you by Hogwarts faculty."

With that, I spun on my heel and left the students. Thankfully, being foolishly brave was a Gryffindor trait, not a Slytherin one, so I doubted that any of my Slytherin students would be idiotic enough to run into battle and get themselves killed. Now I had my own problems to deal with, though. Judging by my Dark Mark, my regiment had not been called to this battle. I couldn't exactly fight on the side of the Hogwarts Professors, though, because if a Death Eater did recognize me, I would be reported and executed at the next available opportunity. Just the thought of attacking other professors—or defenseless students—made me sick to my stomach, though. I couldn't stand by and let my students be harmed, tortured, even killed.

I started sprinting towards the upper stories of the castle, desperately hoping that I would not meet any Death Eaters. I would not fight on either side, I decided, but would instead surreptitiously usher any students I found to safety. My careful plan was immediately blown to smithereens, for the first person who crossed my path was not only a Death Eater, but the commander of my regiment. I froze, as though that would somehow keep him from noticing me, but it was too late. He immediately pointed his wand at me in a threatening gesture, before hesitating.

"Colburn!" he snapped, lowering his wand. "What are you doing here? Only commanders were summoned." I felt like a deer caught in the headlights of the Knight Bus. He gave me another scrutinizing glance before angrily adding, "Why aren't you wearing your Death Eater robes and mask?"

"I—uh—don't have them anymore," I lamely stated, desperate to get any words out before he decided it would be a good idea to hex me.

"What?" He glanced up and down the hall. "Look, I don't have time to find out all the contorted details about how you got here." He suddenly jerked his wand in my direction and I jumped, terrified that he had taken back his decision to not hex me. He only transfigured my robes and conjured me a Death Eater mask, though, before stating "The main battle is this way, follow me."

I grudgingly ran after him, glad for the mask if only because it hid my emotions. We appeared in the Great Hall, where Death Eaters outnumbered Aurors two to one. I noticed with a sinking feeling in my heart that some of those fighting the Death Eaters were only students. Older students, admittedly, but still students, students who I had been instructing for the past year. The head of my regiment stalked off towards one side of the Great Hall, immediately joining a duel that another Death Eater had already started.

Once I was convinced my commander was no longer paying attention to me, I immediately fled in the opposite direction, desperate to separate myself from both sides of the battle. On one hand, I felt physically sick of the Death Eaters, as though I was soon going to be at a breaking point, but on the other hand, my innate survival instinct would not allow me do something as suicidal as directly oppose them. I had only gone a short distance from the Great Hall when I heard a voice come from the door of an open classroom. My feet suddenly felt glued to the floor.

"The Dark Lord wants him alive," I heard Severus state.

"You were doing more than trying to hand him to the Dark Lord alive!" a vaguely familiar authoritative voice bellowed.

"Are you doubting my loyalty, when I am of a higher rank than you? Give me back my wand!" Sev hissed.

"You cannot convince me otherwise; I heard your treasonous words with my own ears, I heard you trying to help Potter!"

My jaw dropped in horror. Treason was punishable by death. Without a thought I immediately ran into the classroom, determined to somehow convince the other Death Eater that he was wrong. Harry was incapacitated but alive on the floor. Severus was in his Death Eater robes, sans mask and magically bound to the wall. The last Death Eater in the room had also lost his mask and I realized with a jolt why his voice had sounded vaguely familiar: it was my brother Seginus.

"What's going on here?" I attempted to say in as confident and authoritative of a voice as I could.

"This treasonous slimebag was helping the Half-blood," Seginus snarled, gesturing with his wand.

"If by 'helping' you mean 'not killing', the Dark Lord specifically requested Ha—Potter alive. Unless you're disobeying orders?" I said the last sentence as coldly and threateningly as I could. In reality, I had no clue what state the Dark Lord wanted Harry in.

"He led the Boy-Who-Deserves-To-Die away from the Battle Field before giving him advice on how to avoid capture," my brother spat. "He's probably working for the Aurors. He deserves to be killed, as does the boy. I'm not risking him worming through my fingers," he lifted his wand.

"No!" I yelled out. "I mean, let him plead his case before the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord will punish him as he sees fit. As far as the boy, he must be delivered unharmed." Severus and Harry were watching our argument carefully without saying a word.

"Commanders have the right to execute those committing acts of treason on the spot in a battle situation," Seginus seemed to be reciting a written rule. "Who are you, giving me orders?" he suddenly turned towards me. "You're not a commander, and you're a woman no less!"

I felt a surge of anger and blurted out. "Damn it, Seginus! Listen to me!"

His face only became more twisted with rage. "How dare you refer to me by my first name! That's Commander Colburn, to you! Disrespect to your superiors is also a punishable offence, need I remind you?"

"I'm sorry, _Commander Colburn,"_ I said silkily. I decided to take another approach, and had to keep myself from gagging on the sugary sweet words I said next, "It's only that such a gross miscarriage of justice is not befitting of a man of your stature."

"Not giving this man a death sentence is what would be a gross miscarriage of justice. You do not even know what has transpired here, yet you are defending this traitor? You are also very far from the main battle. It seems to me that perhaps you are also a traitor," he dangerously stated. My eyes went wide and I felt every drop of blood drain from my face at his suggestion. "For now, I will deal with one traitor at a time," he snarled, suddenly pointing his wand at Severus. "_Avada—_"

"NO!" I shrieked. "This man is no traitor!" I desperately pleaded, my voice about an octave higher than normal.

Seginus had stopped his incantation and turned on me. "Why should I listen to you?!" his rage-filled bellow seemed to fill the entire room.

With a combination of anger at my brother and terror for Sev's life, I ripped off my mask and threw it to the ground. Seginus's eyes opened ever so slightly wider and Harry gasped "Professor Colburn!" in a horrified tone.

Seginus quickly recovered from the shock at seeing me and said in only a slightly more civil tone, "Look, _Liseli_, I don't know what you're doing here, but I will not tolerate your disobedience. There is not a shadow of a doubt in my mind that his man was committing treason." He raised an eyebrow and said in a cold, calculating tone, "Perhaps if you execute him for me I will fail to investigate your potentially traitorous behavior." I thought that every speck of blood had already drained from my face, but I was proved wrong as my face became even paler. Seginus suddenly pointed his wand at me and, before I could react, stated the word "_Imperio_."

It was a very odd sensation. It felt as though I was floating above myself, disinterestedly watching some chestnut-haired woman named Liseli. At the same time, my frantic worry for Sev was keeping my feet firmly grounded in my body, and the resulting feeling was one of being torn between two places. That chestnut-haired woman was holding my wand up, obediently aiming it at Sev, before I turned away from him with a burst of energy. A nagging voice in my head told me to point it at Sev again.

_NO!_ I silently screamed, and now the urge to turn towards him and the urge to turn away from him resulted in me jerkily pointing my wand towards different spots in the room, as though I was on some sort of demented carousal.

Sev…wall…Harry…wall…Seginus…Sev…Seginus…"_Crucio_," the word awkwardly left my mouth and suddenly the disconnecting haze was gone, my curse having interrupted my brother's concentration.

"How dare you attack me!" he snarled, ignoring that it was him who had just put me under the Imperius curse. "Just as you attacked Matar."

"Matar attacked me," I spat back, remembering the duel in my apartment many weeks back.

"Yeah. Sure. Which reminds me. You'll probably be overjoyed to hear this. Matar's dead. He was killed by an Auror. About fifteen minutes ago," I had never heard Seginus's voice so full of hatred, and I had never seen anything resembling the endless grief now settling in his eyes.

I stared at my oldest brother, stunned. The words bounced off of my ears as oil does to water, simply because I couldn't believe it was true. I had never been close to Matar, but Seginus and him had been the best of friends since birth, utterly inseparable, and suddenly the reason for Seginus's rather demented behavior in the past few minutes seemed clear. "I—I would never be overjoyed at the death of one of my brothers," I feebly defended myself, shocked.

Seginus looked near to tears. "Are you going to execute this treasonous scumbag, or not?" he hatefully gestured towards Sev, his face twisted in a pained look.

"I—I—" I looked between my brother and the love of my life. I couldn't think of anything to say, any method to defend Sev. The phrase "Matar's dead" was ringing distractedly in my ear and crowding out any other thoughts.

"Either you execute him, or I do, and then I report your treasonous behavior to your commander," his voice was shaking with rage. I gaped at him. Report my treasonous behavior? That would be a death sentence. "Don't push me, Liseli. I'll do it," he breathed and there was something almost animal-like in the crazed emotions swirling in his light blue eyes.

Surely this was simply a surreal nightmare, one far too horrible to even be confused with reality. The two choices Seginus offered stood before me: I could—I could kill Severus, in which case my life would be spared. Or, I could not kill Severus, in which case Seginus would execute him anyways and my execution for treason would follow shortly afterwards. My brother seemed to have decided that I had been allotted enough time to make a decision, for he focused all of his attention on Severeus and slowly started the incantation, clearly savoring the moment, "_Av_—"

Something inside me broke. With lightning speed, I finished my words before he could so much as look at me. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

…

A/N: So I'm afraid that I've either made it too obvious what happens next, or in my attempt to keep it a surprise, I've skewed perception far too far in the other direction. I guess that's my way of saying opinions and feedback on this chapter are greatly appreciated!

I was planning to put this chapter up a bit earlier in the day, but I was drafting it with the advice of all you lovely people who reviewed last chapter. You know who you are (: Mark Darcy, gothicflower, tibys, angelofire and Leslie.


	37. Of His Own House

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Of His Own House**

The green killing curse flew from my wand and hit my intended target. Seginus fell to the ground, dead, while Sev and Harry regarded me with shocked, bulging eyes. I stared unbelievingly at my brother, whose light blue eyes had gained the same glassy look as Paige's after her death. I was shaking all over as I stooped to pick up my fallen Death Eater mask.

"Get Harry somewhere safe," I tried to say as nonchalantly as I could, only my voice was shaking, too. "I can't go mowing down Death Eaters all day to defend you." It seemed that one arm of the battle, at least, had moved closer and numbly I ran towards it, desperate for something, anything, to tear Seginus's glassy blue eyes from my mind.

Before I even realized what was happening, something had hit my legs and I was crashing towards the floor. I tried to convince myself to focus on casting spells and blindly aimed a stunning spell in the direction of the offending hex. I turned towards my attacker just in time to see my spell fly over his head. "I've got you now, you Death Eater," Flitwick crooned. I snarled a frostbite hex in his direction which he reflected, causing molecules of ice to rain down on both of us. I rolled to a standing position, sidestepping a curse of his which cracked the stone tiles I had been standing on.

I didn't want do duel him. I just wanted to run, as though running would somehow cause me to wake up from this nightmare. The Charms professor seemed determined to not let me escape his grasp, though, and with another hex another set of stones beneath my feet broke into pieces.

With a jab of my wand, a variation of the Bubble-head charm encased his head. Instead of providing fresh, breathable air, it removed the surrounding air, leaving him to helplessly try and breathe the nonexistent air. With another jab of my wand, I removed the curse. I didn't want to kill him, just deter him from fighting me enough that I could flee the duel. The Bubble-head variant only seemed to cement his desire to attack/incapacitate/injure me, though.

"Don't mess with me, Death Eater," the normally peaceful, friendly Head of Ravenclaw snarled. Suddenly it felt as though an invisible lasso was wrapped around one of my legs, trapping me. I sharply turned in a poor attempt to break free from the spell, but Flitwick jerked his wand in the opposite direction and, almost as though the lasso was attached to the tip of his wand, I felt it pull on my leg. With a sickening cracking sound and sudden, shooting pain, my leg crumpled beneath me. "_Frappez_!" Flitwick squeaked, and a burst of blue light let forth from his wand. The force of the spell, almost equivalent to a bludger at full speed, hit my hand and my wand went skittering towards his feet.

I tried to make a leap towards my wand, but from my position on the floor I couldn't gain enough velocity to approach anywhere near it.

With a derisive wave of his wand, glowing gold cords suddenly sprung out of the ground and wrapped themselves tightly around me. "_Silencio_," Flitwick murmured, before turning and leaving my completely incapacitated from on the floor behind him.

My attempts to move or wriggle free of the bonds were immediately foiled by the fact that they were so tight and all-encasing I could barely move a single muscle. I couldn't scream for help, for a "fellow" Death Eater to unbind me, because of the silencing spell. All I could do was lie helplessly on the floor, with terror coursing through my veins at the realization that _I was going to be caught _and all I could do was wait for it, with nothing but my thoughts for company.

I had been haunted by Paige's dead body, but now it was Seginus's that seemed to be in front of me whenever I closed my eyes. _Did I actually kill him? Surely I can't have actually just killed my brother, _I mentally pleaded_. _There seemed to be something very different about killing anonymous Muggles and killing someone I knew, someone with both a name and a face.

The din from the nearby battle slowly faded away, until I couldn't hear anything anymore. Still I laid on the cold stone tiles, waiting for somebody to stumble across me. "I found another one. Right where Flitwick said he left her," an auror's voice echoed down the hall as she walked towards me. She had mousy brown hair and a heart-shaped face that was smeared with dirt. She had been clearly been one of the participants in the battle herself, and she now cast a levitating charm to move me.

The Great Hall was no longer the site of a battle, but instead the site of the aftermath. Professors, Aurors and older students were milling about, either healing, being healed, or simply trying to find out the details of what had occurred. The wall the Auror was taking me towards was being given a wide berth and upon approaching I realized it was the prisoner of war section; there were about half a dozen bound and unmasked Death Eaters kneeling there with hanging heads, almost as though they expected to be executed on the spot.

The mousy-haired woman unceremoniously ripped off my mask and pushed my hood back, before turning and leaving me in the evenly spaced line of Death Eaters. "I'm going to call some extra Aurors to deal with all of these Death Eaters," she yelled to someone I couldn't see. "We should have someone read them their rights while we're waiting."

"I'll do it. I want to help," I heard a quiet voice reply. My insides froze when I realized that the quiet voice belonged to Hermione Granger. She started at the opposite end of the line, always standing over a meter away from the Death Eater to whom she was speaking. Every person closer she moved towards me, I felt my face burn with more and more shame. I fervently wished that desiring something enough could make it happen, because if it could, I would have been a million kilometers away from where I was currently kneeling.

The bushy-haired gave a horrified gasp when she moved to stand in front of me. "P-Professor Colburn," she disbelievingly squeaked, her jaw agape. My face burned with shame, and I kept my gaze directed at her feet, as though hundred kilogram weights were weighing my eyes down. "You have the right to remain silent," her voice shakily started, and it seemed as though she was near to tears. "You have the right to a speedy trial. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

I didn't hear the rest of her words, though, because I suddenly noticed Sev passing through the Great Hall. The din of the Great Hall seemed to fade as every ounce of my focus was dedicated to him. My eyes remained glued to him, but his eyes only flickered once in my direction, so quickly that I almost doubted he had even seen me before he strode out of the Great Hall. "P-Professor Colburn, you have to indicate if you've heard and understood your rights," Hermione's quavering voice suddenly came back into focus. I gave a jerk of my head which could be interpreted as a nod, and without another glance at me she despairingly swept off towards a conglomerate of professors and students.

A small group of uniformed Aurors suddenly burst into the Great Hall and menacingly swept towards us, the captured prisoners. The one who took a place in front of me was a middle-aged wizard with silver hair and merciless black eyes. He took out a floating piece of parchment and quill before turning to me and barking, "State your name." I glared up at him. I had had a

silencing charm put on me, did he not realize that? "State your name" he repeated, through gritted teeth. I continued glaring at him, when he suddenly reached out a hand and slapped me hard across the cheek. I looked at him lividly as he angrily ordered, "You will give me your name!"

Attempting to squash the rage in my eyes and ignore my stinging cheek, I mouthed, "I can't talk."

"Don't sass me, Death Eater," he snarled.

"I can't talk!" I mouthed again, angrily.

"Hey, Dan, some of 'em have had silencing spells put on 'em," the young Auror next to him casually reminded him.

He frowned and with a wave of his wand cancelled the silencing spell. "Thank you for that," I angrily spat.

"I told you to not sass me, scum. Now state your name," the silver-haired Auror glowered.

"Liseli. Colburn," I hatefully hissed. The floating quill immediately wrote something on the floating piece of parchment.

"A Colburn, eh? I think there's another one of your lot in the line-up. Hey, Rob, bring over the other Colburn. We can have a little family reunion." My eyes went wide. _Not Tarazet, not Tarazet_, I silently pleaded against all odds. The other auror complied with the first auror's orders and disappeared down the line of Death Eaters. To my shock and relief, when he returned it wasn't with Tarazet. It was with Deneb. "Ah, a family reunion," the Auror taunted.

"Yeah, well, if you're looking for Seginus and Matar they'll be in the 'not-moving' pile," I spat with a pained tone, furious at his taunting.

Deneb, who had stubbornly been refusing to look at anything but his feet, now jerked his head up towards me. "Seginus and Matar are dead?" the disbelieving look in his eyes became mingled with a restless, scheming look as soon as I nodded.

"Two other Colburns are dead?" the Auror raised an eyebrow in an interested look. "Well, that'll make our work easier. Seems it's always the whole family that turns out rotten, doesn't it, Rob?" he turned towards the younger Auror to his side, again, and I felt my blood boiling with rage.

"Sure does. Think we're missing one, though. The, uh, the one who, oh gosh, what'd he do," the younger Auror was snapping his fingers, trying to remember. "Oh yeah, the counterfeiter. Well, we'll get him eventually."

"Tarazet is no Death Eater," I hatefully hissed, afraid for my brother.

"Sure, of course you're going to say that. We'll get our evidence for it, eventually. You slimy Slytherins can't slip through our fingers forever," the older Auror stated it as a casual fact.

"Please, I beg of you, I am no Death Eater!" Deneb suddenly burst out, his restless eyes glancing between the two Aurors standing in front of us. "I'm like you. I have a respectable job at the ministry. My oldest brother—Seginus Colburn, a Death Eater—put me under the Imperius Curse, and I couldn't throw it off. I was only let free of it when he was killed in battle. I'm innocent, I swear!" I felt a wave of disgust, able to see through his lies as clearly as one can see through a glass of water. I had not known beforehand that Deneb was a Death Eater, but upon reflection it wasn't surprising that someone as ambitious and manipulative as him would take any opportunity to make connections and get ahead.

"Plead your case to the court," the Auror said, with a dash less hostility than he had directed towards me. "We should start apparating them to the holding cells. Let's start with the sassy one," he jerked his head towards me. He made a sweeping motion with his wand and the cords around my legs disappeared. "Don't try anything. We have the right to kill Death Eaters," he menacingly articulated. He roughly grabbed my upper arm and pulled me up from my kneeling position. With a jolt of pain, my leg immediately buckled underneath me, and I painfully landed on the stone floor. "I said don't try anything funny," he glared at me.

"Well I'm sorry if my leg is broken," I snarled with as much dignity as a bound prisoner lying on the floor can. He cast a levitating charm on me, clearly annoyed. With another spell, he bound me to both him and the other Auror, with the goal of keeping me from escaping. Like that, I was taken to the boundary of Hogwarts, apparated to the Ministry, and dumped in a holding cell.

* * *

The holding cell seemed to be a place without answers. The only person I saw in the first day was the guard who stopped by to give me my meals. I asked him what was going to happen, what I was being charged with, when my trial was going to be, whether I would be allowed to have a lawyer, when somebody was going to stop by to heal my battle injuries, and whether the death sentence had been reinstated because of the Dementor's abandoning of Azkaban. The guard always ignored my questions and left my cell without speaking a word. I spent my time staring numbly at the cinderblock wall. I did not need a Dementor in the vicinity for Seginus's death to be continuously replaying in front of my eyes.

The next day, the guard stopped by between meal times and informed me that I had a visitor. "Who?" I asked, both overjoyed and nervous at the prospect of a visitor. It could be a friend, come to support me. It could be a former friend, come to tell me how disgusted and ashamed they were by me. It could be someone from the ministry, come to tell me what my punishment would be, the idea of which terrified me to no end; the ministry was known for being inordinately harsh in sentencing suspected Death Eaters.

"Follow me," the guard gruffly ignored my question, magically binding me as though I would attempt to escape in the guard-infested area. He led me to a plain, windowless room with a door on each side. "We can hear and see everything you do," the guard menacingly glared at me before slamming the door shut.

"Tarazet," I ecstatically articulated my brother's name. He was not wearing prisoner's robes. He had either not been at the battle or had escaped capture.

"Hello, Liseli," he gave a sad, helpless smile. I wish I could say that this situation was familiar, just a reversal of the time that he had been imprisoned. Unfortunately, and it pained me to remember, I had never visited him when he was in jail. I had been too ashamed, too angry at him, and too afraid of being suspected of criminal activities myself to do so. "How—how have you been?" he tried to say it casually, as though we were not conversing in the visiting room of a prison.

"Not too great." I gave a small laugh before understating, "It's no five-star hotel, here."

He exasperatedly shook his head. "They treat prisoners like the scum on the bottom of their shoes.

I swallowed nervously, my burning question on the tip of my tongue. "How much did you hear about the battle?" I blurt out, afraid of the answer.

"There was a Daily Prophet article on it," Tarazet stated hesitatingly. "I was going to show it to you, but the guards wouldn't let me bring anything in," he rolled his eyes in an annoyed matter.

"What did the article say? Did they mention my name?" I exasperatedly rested my forehead in one of my hands.

My brother gave the smallest of nods, and I buried my face in both of my hands. _Did they mention that I killed Seginus? Does anybody even know that I killed my oldest brother?_ I thought, my mind bursting with questions. "They listed all of the Death Eaters who were captured. I mean, they listed everybody they captured and accused of being a Death Eater." He seemed to have just remembered that we could be heard. "Deneb's name was on the list, too. I don't know if you knew that or not."

I nodded. "They put Deneb and me together when they arrested us. Called it a family reunion," I bitterly remembered the Auror's taunting voice. "They accused you of being a Death Eater, too. They said they'd find evidence for it eventually," I warned him.

My brother frowned and pursed his lips. "I already gathered that from the last Daily Prophet article that said I was a suspected Death Eater. Let them look for their evidence. I'm no Death Eater," he confidently lied.

"What else did the article say?" I asked, slightly heartened that it didn't seem to have accused me of murdering Seginus.

"They had a bunch of comments from eyewitnesses, and discussed how well the Professors were healing. Your—friend, Hagrid, had his hut set on fire, but he's fine." It seemed as though it took him a great deal of effort to say the word 'friend' without a disgusted sneer. Tarazet opened his mouth before closing it again and averting his gaze from my face, as though unable to meet my eyes. "There's something else I should tell you, too. It wasn't in the article, but you have a right to know." A final moment of hesitation and then, "Seginus and Matar—they…were both killed in the battle."

I closed my eyes. I could still see Seginus's still body, and his unmoving eyes. "I—I know. How did you find out?" I kept my eyelids shut as I asked my question; I couldn't bear to look at him.

"I was notified as their next-of-kin. Or, I mean, their only next-of-kin that wasn't…imprisoned," a pained look crossed his face and he rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

Cautiously, almost afraid of his reaction, I stated in an attempted light tone, "I know it's always supposed to be sad when someone dies, but I suppose it could be worse. It's not like you or I actually liked them."

Tarazet gave me a look as though he suspected I was telling a sick joke. After waiting a moment, as though he was expecting me to leap in and defend my previous comment, he replied in an obvious tone which indicated he still wasn't sure that I was entirely serious. "Liseli, they're our _brothers_. It doesn't matter that we didn't like them, they are—were—family."

I looked down at my hands which were clasped in my lap before meekly replying, "I know."

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, if still a bit confused that I had said such a thing in the first place, he took a long, raspy breath and continued talking, "I've started making arrangements for them. The funeral's going to be Wednesday, and I was hoping you'd come. For me, if nothing else," he gave me a sad glance mingled with worry, as though expecting a longer argument.

"I'll come," I said softly, almost as though attending their funeral would be a form of repentance.

"Thanks," he flashed an appreciative smile that quickly withered. After many moments of silence he finally gave me a sorrowful look, and whispered in a voice so low the words practically didn't make it across the table to my ears. "Damn it, Liseli, how could you let yourself be caught?" I felt a pained pang in my heart, but I didn't know what to say so I remained silent. "After my stay in Azkaban, you're the only friend I have left," he continued in his hopeless, impossibly quiet voice. He sounded exactly like my thoughts when he had been arrested over fifteen years ago; I had been angry that he had been arrested, and both terrified and terribly saddened by the realization that I might lose my youngest brother.

Tarazet stood up and brushed his hand over his eyes in what he clearly intended to be a nonchalant way. "I should probably go," he stated in a hollow voice. "I'll try and visit again."

The guard led me back to my cell, where Tarazet's unhappiness was added to the list of miserable memories replaying in front of my eyes. _Yes, he cares about you now_, my mind horribly taunted, _But how will he feel when he finds out you murdered your oldest brother?_

…

Disclaimer: The title is an allusion to the quote: "A person's enemies will be of his own house" (also translated as: "A person's enemies will be the members of his own family.")

A/N: So I actually wrote two versions of this chapter, and this is just the one I decided on posting. What do you think? Do Tarazet's and Liseli's actions seem in character? Feedback is always appreciated! Speaking of, thank you to Mark Darcy, angelofire, SchwarzShifter, Leslie, gothicflower and tibys for reviewing!

Also, as a general heads-up, I think this story is going to be fully wrapped up within a few more chapters.


	38. Prologue Revisisted

A/N: The introductory part of this chapter is similar to the prologue, but after that it leads into entirely new stuff.

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Prologue Revisited**

There was nothing to do in my cell. I could decide between doing three things: 1) focusing on the pain from my leg (which the Bureaucracy still hadn't gotten around to fixing), 2) worry about my trial and punishment, or 3) reflect on Seginus's death. Number 3) won my attention most of the time, although I think number 1) would have been less painful.

_I don't know why I did it._ That's one thought that was always on my mind. When the spell was over and my hand was still holding the wand it felt like it was the only thing I could have done, but I was starting to question that.

I was pondering this one day, when the guard informed me that I had a visitor and took me to the plain, simply furnished visitation room. I vaguely glanced at the smooth stone walls and wondered what the weather outside was like; today, like every day, I had not been outside and there were no windows in the room. "Hello, Liseli," Dumbledore greeted me when he entered the room. The twinkle was gone from his blue eyes, and instead a heavy sadness rested on his face. "I'm sorry to have to see you under these terms. I have—ah—been informed of everything, already." I averted my gaze, feeling as though I was physically unable to meet his eyes. "Why did you do it?" there was almost a soft curiosity in his voice.

"I-I don't know. I don't know why anybody does anything, anymore," I stuttered.

He was looking at me intently, even though I refused to meet his eyes. As though he had not heard my response, he repeated his question, "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know why," I repeated again, as though that phrase was a shield which would protect me. Yet every time I said that phrase aloud I felt something deep within me twinge, a small part of me which hissed "Ah, but you do know why. You just don't want to admit it." Dumbledore sighed, and the small room filled with a silence, a screaming, suffocating silence. "I wonder—" I started before I abruptly cut myself off.

"Wonder what?" the white-haired man asked.

"I wonder how much we're a product of our environment, and how much we're a product of—of something else," I lamely stated. I was replaying a question that I had shared with Severus. It had only been a little over half a year ago and yet somehow it seemed as though years, decades, had gone by since it.

"I told Harry something once. I said that it is our choices that show what we are, but I think I should have said that it is our choices that _make_ us what we are." He said it in a final, all-knowing tone, as though he was stating the answer to an arithmetic problem.

I frowned at him, at this man who seemed so assured that everything was so simple, but he pressed onto other subjects of conversation in that same self-confident tone, "Even if you don't know why you did it, I think you were terribly brave in doing it. You did the right thing."

My frown became a puzzled, disbelieving look. "What are you talking about?" I finally asked. Surely he was not referencing my murder of Seginus?

He blinked at me, as though equally puzzled. "Why, you saved two very valuable lives. You saved Harry and Severus. That's very admirable. It is, of course, very unfortunate that you killed your brother," I flinched at how easily he said those words, "But all in all, you did the right thing."

I continued gazing at him disbelievingly. The word "right" sounded hollow, empty, and meaningless when he said it. "How do you know what happened?" I slowly asked, wondering what story he had heard.

"Severus and Harry both recounted the night's events to me. They said your brother Seginus cornered them in a classroom and was very intent on killing both of them. You stepped in, as you know of course," he chuckled at that aside, "And after diplomatic methods failed to convince Seginus to leave them unharmed, you used other methods. Your choice of secondary methods is rather regrettable, but I imagine it's hard to think straight under that amount of pressure," he said the last few sentences with a rather sorrowful tone, in contrast to the matter-of-fact tone he had been using previously.

Somehow I felt that he was missing several crucial pieces of the puzzle, but I didn't say anything. "Do you know what's going to happen to me?" I nervously asked, both dreading and desiring a clear cut answer.

The Headmaster let out a long sigh. "Severus is preparing a defense for you, but the court does not look kindly on captured Death Eaters." I flinched at the last two words and an amused smile formed on his lips. "My dear, I know you're a Death Eater. I've known, or I suppose I should say suspected, that you were a Death Eater even before I hired you."

I gaped at him. "Why on earth did you hire me, then? For all you knew, I could have gone around murdering Muggle-born students," I blurt out, forgetting to maintain an innocent demeanor.

His eyes regained some of their mischievous twinkle. "Because I also knew you weren't a very willing Death Eater. Besides, I told Severus to keep an eye on you, just in case I had misjudged your character which, clearly, I haven't."

I only gaped at him more. _He had told Sev to keep an eye on me? _"Is that—is that why Sev became friends with me? Because you told him to?" I choked out.

"Merlin's beard no," Dumbledore waved his hand as though swatting away a fly. "Severus is not one to become friends with someone simply by being forced into their vicinity, quite the opposite I'd say." I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my entire body relax. "Now, I must be going, but I do believe there is someone with me who would like to see you. I also wanted to inform you that I will be at your trial. Until then," he tipped his hat and left the room, his long purple robes swirling rather majestically.

I drummed my fingers on the table. If there really was someone else with Dumbledore to see me, then there was no point in returning to my cell, just to be hauled out to the visiting room again. I waited a few moments while deciding what to do before the door was pushed open again.

"Hello, Hagrid," I greeted the immense man with mild surprise; I had expected that after my arrest not a single one of my acquaintances or friends would want to associate with me, me the known Death Eater.

"Hullo," he returned the greeting, slightly panting from his effort to squeeze through the narrow door. "They really ought ter have built that door a wee bit larger," he gave an almost embarrassed smile, "Or at least ter have put a charm on it to change sizes." He attempted to pull out the chair across from the table from me and frowned when it didn't move.

"They're cemented to the ground," I quickly informed him. "I think they're afraid of the furniture being used as weapons, or something."

He made another attempt to move the chair, before scrutinizing the (relatively) tiny distance between the chair and the table. "Guess I'll stand, then. That's a bit ridiculous that yeh can't move 'em. It's not like yer a deranged criminal or somethin'."

I blinked at him, but decided against reminding him that, as far as the Ministry was concerned, Death Eaters were the most deranged criminals they had. "How's Hogwarts?" I asked instead, attempting to steer our conversation on to more light-hearted topics.

"Hogwarts is goin' alright. Everyone's a bit on edge from the attack, but other than that things are returnin' to normal. Snape's been coverin' your classes fer yeh. Been in a right foul mood, too. Whenever somebody mentions yeh he stalks outta the room. Guess he doesn' like havin' extra classes to cover. One o' the students asked 'bout what had happened to yeh an' he gave them detention." He shifted his weight nervously before blurting out another stream of words, "Yeh wouldn' believe all the rumors about what happened to yeh. Are they really true?" He looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

"Er—I can't say I know what the rumors are," I stalled, hoping to defer any answer I might have to give.

"They're all over the place," he made a dismissive gesture with one of his humongous hands. "I overheard some students arguing that yeh had an identical twin an' that was the crux of the matter to another student who was arguin' that it was boggart who had been arrested an' that the real you was in hidin' somewhere."

In spite of my rather serious situation, I couldn't help but laugh at those ridiculous theories. "Well, I promise you that neither of those are true."

His next words were accompanied with a naïve, disbelieving expression on his face. "But—but you're not really a Death Eater, are yeh?"

My smile stayed on my face, half-frozen, before slowly disappearing. "I—" He continued regarding me with an almost hopeful look. "I don't think I can discuss that before my trial," I swallowed.

His face gained a drooping, disappointed air. "Y'know there are some students—even some professors--who think yeh really are a Death Eater. They're sayin' 'Good riddance' that yer were arrested, but I think they're wrong. Dumbledore hasn't said anythin' when I've talked to him, but yeh know what, I know you aren't a Death Eater. Death Eaters commit all sorts o' horrible acts, an' that just doesn' seem like you." The corners of his eyes crinkled as gave me what he probably intended to be an encouraging smile. "I should probably get goin'—I'm supposed to go back with Dumbledore to Hogwarts—but I just wanted to say that I'm sure this'll all get straightened out." The encouraging smile returned, causing me to mentally wince.

Instead, I flashed him a half-hearted smile in return. "Thanks, I suppose."

* * *

The next day I found out, to my surprise, that I had yet another visitor. I expected it was probably Tarazet, and I casually sat in the waiting room, twiddling my thumbs and thinking how I could at least tell him that the Ministry's bureaucracy had finally gotten around to healing my leg. I stood up in shock when my visitor walked into the room. "S-Sev," I blurt out. All of my stubborn pretending that I didn't know the reason why I had killed Seginus vanished. He was the reason I had killed Seginus. I had killed Seginus to save him, to see the love of my life alive, wonderfully alive.

I felt overjoyed to see him; my heart was positively bursting at not only knowing he was safe and healthy, but at knowing that he had cared enough to visit. I was about to embrace him when he coldly said, "Hello, Colburn," and stuck out his arm to shake my hand. I froze, shocked and hurt by his behavior, at his acting as though we were not even friends; it felt as though my heart had instantaneously shattered into a million pieces.

"H-Hello, Professor Snape," my voice cracked. I had killed for him and now—and now—

"The Headmaster asked me to discuss your defense for the trial with you," he snapped each word out in a cool, business-like manner.

"O-Of course," I averted my eyes, unable to meet his emotionless gaze.

"It will be impossible to deny that you are a Death Eater. However, I believe that we may able to convince the judge that you are on the Ministry's side, as evidenced by your defense of Harry Potter." _MY DEFENSE OF YOU!_ I mentally screamed. Had he not noticed? How could he have not noticed! "There is the possibility the prosecution will attempt to have you imprisoned for using an Unforgivable on Seginus Colburn. Unfortunately, that is a risk that we will have to take, because this is by far the strongest defense we have."

"The Death Eaters will execute me as soon as I'm released if they believe I killed one of their commanders," I hollowly stated the fact.

"The Death Eaters have been informed that Seginus was a traitor," I looked at him, surprised, but was only able to bring myself to meet his eyes for a split second.

"Since when is Seginus a traitor?" I skeptically asked, knowing that he had been undyingly devoted to them.

"Since I have rather influential connections with the Death Eaters," he coolly replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

I nodded. "Is that the only reason you came to see me?" I nervously asked, afraid of the answer.

A muscle twitched in his face, distorting his emotionless mask for a fraction of a second that passed so quickly I doubted I had seen any change at all. He replied in an emotionless drawl, "Yes, that's the only reason I came. I should be going. I wish you the best of luck, Colburn." He abruptly stood up and strode out of the room in a rather business-like manner. I stared disbelievingly at the spot he had been occupying the room just moments prior.

_Colburn?_ my mind echoed his last word. _Whatever happened to Lee? _Either my murder of Seginus or my arrest had clearly been enough to eliminate any fondness that he may have felt towards me. _I killed for him,_ I thought. _And now—and now—I'm less than nothing to him._

…

A/N: I'm sorry the end of this chapter was kind of depressing, but things really are going to get cheerful again, I swear. This is the dark before the dawn, or whatever that clichéd saying is. There is also a very specific reason behind Snape's actions that will be revealed. (Although, actually, is the reason already obvious?)

Anyways, thanks a bunch to Mark Darcy, tibys, Orton-fan, angelofire, SchwarzShifter and BEN-Beyond-the-Elusive-Nomads- for reviewing!


	39. A Funeral and A Trial

_**One Day at a Time**_

**A Funeral and a Trial**

That Wednesday, two uniformed Aurors came to my holding cell and told me that they were my escorts, as my application to attend Seginus's and Matar's funeral had been accepted. I recognized the woman with mousy brown hair and a heart-shaped face as the one who had found me after the battle of Hogwarts. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks," she politely introduced herself and shook my hand.

The other Auror, a pug-faced man with strawberry-blond hair, didn't bother to extend the courtesy of introducing himself. Instead, he started by saying, "Look, here's the run down, Colburn. You're going to be magically bound to both of us. If it looks like you're trying to escape, we have the right to kill you, no questions asked. Same goes with anybody who seems as if they're trying to help you escape. Seem fair?" He finished what sounded like a long-winded legal disclaimer.

_That doesn't sound exactly fair_, I thought, _Because "Looks like you're trying to escape" makes it sound like they can kill me if I make too sudden of a movement to scratch my nose._ I didn't say that aloud, though, instead succinctly replying, "Sounds fair."

"Tonks, you're the one apparating, right?" the pug-faced man turned towards her.

"Yep. Scoped out the place yesterday," she replied, her mouth a grim line. With a whirl of color, the three of us were jostled together and the scenery changed to the small dirt road and rusty iron gates of the cemetery where Mother and Father were buried. The sun was blindingly light and the rich blue of the sky was a welcome and foreign sight even after only a week in prison. "Where is the Colburns' funeral?" Tonks respectfully asked the Muggle at the front desk.

"Right this way, ma'am," the Muggle gestured for us to follow him. Just about every two steps he would curiously scrutinize the thin gold lines that were wrapped around both of my arms and around one of the arms of Tonks to my right and the male Auror to my left. He didn't say anything about the obvious display of magic, though. He probably didn't even realize what it was; Muggles can be quite dense like that.

The burial site was a rather humble affair. About a dozen gray folding chairs were set up in a straight line and there were two small bouquets of white roses on green backgrounds resting on the polished woods of the two coffins. To the side there was a pedestal behind which an amiable looking man with silver-streaked hair and pronounced jowls stood. I recognized the chestnut hair and lanky frame of Tarazet from a distance, made even simpler by the fact that every single chair was empty except from the one taken by him. He seemed to have, likewise, noticed us from a distance, for he walked over and greeted me with a somber smile befitting of a funeral environment.

The female Auror, Tonks, behaved in a likewise somber manner, saying, "I'm sorry for your loss…es. Your losses."

Tarazet acknowledger her words with a nod of the head before turning to me and saying, "I wanted to warn you to not go whipping out your wand, or doing any other displays of magic. Although I suppose that applies more to you two," he jerked his head in the Aurors' directions. "The philosopher who's speaking at the funeral is a Muggle."

"The philosopher's a Muggle?" I repeated, surprised. "That's a bit too much irony for me," I had to give my brother an amused smile at of the surrealism of the situation, in spite of the somber environment.

"I know. Seginus and Matar would be rolling in their graves if they knew," he gave a small black laugh. "I never thought I could mean that literally," he disbelievingly shook his head.

"What's wrong with a Muggle being the philosopher? Or—I mean—Muggles call them ministers," Tonks asked, a frown creasing her brow.

Tarazet raised his eyebrows very slightly before lightly replying, "Seginus and Matar didn't like Muggles very much."

"Really, Tonks, what did you expect? They were convicted Death Eaters," the strawberry-blond Auror said his first words since the long legal disclaimer he gave me.

"Not all Death Eaters hate Muggles," I stated simply, a frown similar to Tonks' appearing on my face.

"Really? I gathered that that was their one defining trait," the pug-faced male Auror replied in an annoyed tone.

Tarazet pursed his lips. "People join for other reasons. Seginus and Matar were a bit extreme in their beliefs, anyway."

The tension from the conversation seemed to hang in the air, until Tonks cheerfully replied (well, cheerfully considering we were there to attend a funeral), "You should have told us ahead of time. We could have worn Muggle clothes."

Tarazet pursed his lips even more out of his increasing annoyance, until it looked as though he had been sucking on a lemon. "That would be disrespectful," he snapped out each word.

Tonks frowned. "Why? Muggles wear them to funerals."

"Muggles are welcome to wear whatever they want to their funerals, but that doesn't mean it's appropriately respectful for a Wizard's funeral. You don't see Muggles wearing robes to their funerals; they'd find it ridiculous, I'm sure," my youngest brother coolly laid out his argument.

"If you're so determined to keep Wizarding and Muggle culture separate, why did you hire a Muggle philosopher?" the female Auror sounded rather irate.

"Because putting on a funeral is expensive and it just about drained my bank account," Tarazet replied matter-of-factly.

"I suppose a Muggle minister was cheaper than an actual philosopher because the Wizard-to-Muggle currency conversion rate still favors Wizards?" I entered the conversation myself.

Tarazet nodded. "Even with that boost, though, I have literally three knuts left in my bank account," he gave an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"You should have asked me. You know you can always borrow from my account if you need to." As soon as I finished I immediately knew how my brother was going to respond and that I was wasting my breath.

"And you know I hate asking people for money. I'll be fine," he replied shortly. Growing up as one of the poorest families in the House of Slytherin had made all of us rather stubborn about being self-reliant when it came to financial manners.

I was a bit annoyed at his stubbornness (perhaps hypocritically so), so I replied, "You're going to get all my money, anyway, if I get life in prison."

"Don't talk like that!" Tarazet angrily snapped at my mention of the life prison sentence, and both of the Aurors guarding me jumped a bit. He seemed to realize now wasn't the time or place for such outbursts, though, for he added in a more subdued tone, "We should be focusing on the funeral. Let's head back; the philosopher is probably wondering why we're so far removed from the actual site of the services."

"My children, I am truly sorry for your losses. I hope you accept my sincere condolences," the philosopher greeted us in a sorrowful voice. We vaguely murmured our thanks before seating ourselves. I silently wished that I wasn't flanked by Aurors, just for the simple reason that it meant I had to talk over Tonks if I wanted to have a conversation with Tarazet.

"Did you tell Deneb?" I asked him, leaning forwards so I could see around the Auror.

"Yes. He was absolutely furious that I visited him while he was in his holding cell, though. He went on this long tirade about how he didn't associate with criminals, or endorse criminal activities, and that he was a law-abiding Ministry employee." Tarazet rolled his eyes. He had clearly reached the same conclusion as I had: Deneb was a Death Eater, even if he hadn't revealed it to us. "He conveniently gave this little speech in ear shot of several people, who I'm sure he will now call on a character witnesses. As I'm sure you can guess, he's not coming."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. He technically disowned Seginus and Matar a while ago, anyways," I repeated the old news.

"That reminds me, Deneb said he's disowning you, too," my youngest brother informed me.

I felt a pang of regret and sadness in my heart which faded to annoyance before fading completely. "I'm surprised it took him a whole week to disown me after my arrest," I said lightly.

"That is a bit slow for him. Funny how Deneb's an only child now by his counting, especially since he was born one of five.," Tarazet responded in an almost conversational tone.

"You know he's saying Seginus put him under the Imperius curse? I imagine that's going to be his defense in court," I said suddenly.

"What?" Tarazet frowned. "I mean…hm," he cut himself off with a glance at the Aurors. I had a feeling he had the same reaction as me: "Well, I may not _like_ Seginus very much, but Deneb saying that Seginus put him under the Imperius curse is a despicable, back-stabbing lie."

The philosopher looked at his watch before scanning the row of mostly empty chairs. "Oh, dear, the funeral was scheduled to start now," he said with a slightly creased brow. "Let's wait a few more minutes. My child, are you sure everybody knows how to find their way to the burial site?"

Tarazet nodded, and I leaned forwards again to continue my conversation with him. "Did anybody you talked to tell you they were coming?" I quietly asked.

My brother shook his head. "I managed to find some of the Slytherins in Seginus and Matar's years and talk to them, and I also talked to some of Mother and Father's old friends, hoping they might come out of respect to our parents," he sounded as though he felt guilty that nobody had showed up yet.

"And?" I breathlessly asked, already guessing their responses.

"They said that when a man gets killed they never like to get mixed up in it in any way." I sighed. That seemed a very Slytherin thing to say. "They're probably afraid of being suspected as Death Eaters if they associate with them at all," he said almost bitterly.

"So why are you here, then?" the pug-faced Auror faced my brother and asked in a suspicious tone.

Tarazet raised his eyebrows slightly before coolly replying, "_I_ have some sense of loyalty." The Auror looked annoyed, as though he had been hoping to get a confessional out of Tarazet that he was a Death Eater. Almost as though Tarazet was determined to show that the auror wasn't going to break off our conversation, Tarazet quickly plunged into a new topic of conversation: "You know Mother and Father are buried here?"

I nodded before realizing he wasn't looking at me. "I know. I visited their graves a few months back, after we had lunch one of those times."

Tarazet's head snapped towards me and for a split second the tense look on his face melted into a relieved smile. "I knew you would. When it gets down to it, you always do the right thing." I gave a hesitating half-smile in return; something told me if he had known the circumstances of Seginus's death he would not be saying that I always did "the right thing."

The philosopher gave an attention-collecting cough. "I'd like to start, unless there are any objections." None of us said anything and he launched into his pre-prepared speech. Even if he was a Muggle minister instead of a Wizard philosopher, the general ideas of his speech were the same as those that I had heard from philosophers before: the dead find peace, they are beginning a journey that we can now nothing of, etc. The philosopher did make some references that I didn't understand, though, and I vaguely wondered what he did when he wasn't lecturing at funerals; philosophers did research on death, the soul, ghosts and the afterlife, but I didn't know if such research required magic or not.

The philosopher finally gave a conclusive sounding "Amen" and closed the small black book in front of him, before stepping out from behind the podium and shaking each of our hands in turn. "I'm very sorry for your losses. If there is anything I can do to ease your hardship." He spoke to us individually, in what I imagined was supposed to be a more personal tone than the speech, but the intended effect was mostly lost due to the already small audience size. "You are…friends? Family?" He continued conversationally, addressing the four of us as a group.

"They're family," Tonks replied politely, indicating Tarazet and I.

"Ah, so half family, half friends. Well, the loss of a loved one is always difficult, be it friend or family," the philosopher continued in his sympathetic voice.

"We're not friends," the strawberry-blond Auror replied curtly. "We're guards for her," he jerked his thumb towards me.

The philosopher's eyes opened wide and he turned to me. "Are you in danger, my child?"

The Auror let out a hollow laugh before continuing in a derisive voice, "No, you misunderstand. We're protecting the world from her. She's a criminal. She's awaiting her trial."

The philosopher took a step back and his innocent, wide-open eyes gained an alarmed look. "Oh…oh dear…" I stubbornly looked at my feet, too ashamed of my status as a criminal to look him in the eyes.

In the periphery of my vision I saw Tarazet looking extremely annoyed. "Don't talk about my sister in that tone of voice," he angrily snapped.

The Auror's face darkened. "Like you're one to talk. If I recall correctly, you spent fifteen years in prison."

The philosopher turned towards Tarazet and his eyes opened even more widely, if possible. "Is this true?"

"Oh, it's true alright," the strawberry-blond Auror continued. He jerked his head towards the two coffins. "Their two brothers were convicted criminals, too, you now. Life sentences."

"Oh…oh dear…" was all the philosopher said as he looked between the four of us, the franticness and glint of fear in his eyes reminiscent of a caged animal. "Well, I, uh, I must be going. If you ever wish to repent for your sins, I would be happy to welcome you to my congregation. Until then, goodbye," he finished his hurriedly spoken stream of words before giving a weak wave and quickly striding away.

I felt rage start mingling with the sadness and guilt already in my veins. _How dare that man judge all of us_, I thought angrily, _As though our whole existence is summed up in the word 'criminal.'_

"Alright, funeral's over," the male Auror continued in a business-like voice, oblivious to Tarazet's and my anger; even Tonks gave her fellow Auror an annoyed glance for his behavior. "Let's go," he barked.

I gave one last desperate glance around the cemetery and tried to hold the image in my mind—the blue sky, the thin white clouds on the horizon, the green of the clipped grass and the brown of the tree trunks and the chirping of the birds—everything. If my meager defense was seen through in the trial, this would be the last time I would ever see the outdoors for the rest of my life, and a sort of panic seized me at that thought. "I'll visit—" Tarazet started, but soon I was whizzing away to my holding cell, courtesy of the two Aurors flanking me, and I couldn't hear his words anymore.

* * *

I nervously sat, tightly clasping my hands together and feeling as though any moment my vocal cords would simply fall out of my throat. _I wonder if mutes have to testify in court_, I vaguely wondered as I looked around the small, half-filled court room. I recognized my court-assigned lawyer, who was determined to get me acquitted. Whether he honestly believed I was innocent, or simply thought it would better his reputation, I didn't know, and I didn't care as long as it resulted in me being let go. Otherwise, the court room had the prosecution, one or two journalists, a few law students, the jury, Dumbledore, and Tarazet. Tarazet gave me a reassuring smile as my eyes passed over him. I would have smiled back, only it seemed that my brain had decided to relinquish all control of my muscles.

"You are Liseli Colburn, birth date the fourth of April, 1962. Is that correct?" the prosecution's booming voice silenced the quiet chatter in the room. I nodded. Trusting my throat to actually let words out seemed like awfully poor odds. "You are legally required to verbally respond," the nasally voice drawled.

"Y-yes. Yes I am Liseli Colburn," the words managed to squeak out of my throat.

The prosecutor continued his legal jargon, further confirming my identity by asking my various places of residence and occupations in turn. I felt as though I was liable to dissolve into a puddle of nerves any minute, and I was only on the simple questions! "I am now going to run down a list of charges and you are going to respond 'Guilty' or 'Not guilty.' If you respond 'Guilty' this does not necessarily mean you will be sentenced for that particular crime, as there are still a variety of excusable defenses, including self-defense, insanity, the greater good, et cetera," the mosquito-whine of a voice continued. _I can do this_, I attempted to relax. _I'm not a willful Death Eater, as evidenced by my killing of Seginus. That's the defense we're going for and my lawyer already instructed me how to respond. I'll be fine._ "You are charged with disrupting the public peace. How do you plead?"

A deep breath. "Disrupting the public peace," that was legal jargon for being a willful Death Eater. My voice only had one tremor in it as I responded "Not guilty."

"The use of Unforgivable curses on Aurors."

Another generic charge for being a willful Death Eater. "Not guilty."

"The use of the Cruciatus curse on Seginus Colburn."

My eyes flickered towards Tarazet. A slight crease had formed on his forehead at the reading of that charge, but his expression was otherwise undisturbed. "Guilty." No reaction.

"The murder of Seginus Colburn with the Avada Kedavra curse."

The frown on his face intensified, accompanied by a puzzled, disbelieving look. I could practically tell the rest of his thoughts by the confused look on his face: "Why on Earth are they charging you with that?" He didn't know. He didn't understand. He thought it must be a phony charge. I focused on a piece of wall directly over his head; I couldn't look at him as I let that single word slip from my lips: "Guilty."

Tarazet's look of utter confusion only deepened and he rubbed his temples as though attempting to solve an incomprehensible riddle. Slowly, the lines of anguished confusion faded, one by one, as though with each step of the riddle he solved another line vanished, until all of the pieces had slid into place and now he understood: I was telling the truth. The expression left resting on his face was a pained one of disgust, betrayal, and shocked disbelief. "How could you?" he mouthed, as I attempted to break eye contact and pretend that I had not seen his reaction.

That didn't stop me from feeling a pang of guilt combined with helplessness at my brother's reaction. I wanted to start yelling, "I'm sorry!" but I couldn't, not in a court room. Dumbledore had said I did the right thing, but now I was feeling a sudden impulse to somehow reverse my actions. If I could actually chose again, though, would I kill Severus? I couldn't imagine myself doing that, either. I should have done the "right" thing--if there even had been a "right" course of action.

"The preliminary questions are finished," the judge's voice boomed. "We will now take a ten minute recess." Most of the people in the room stood up and milled towards the doors. My brother walked into the outside hall with the rest of the mob as I stayed in the courtroom with my lawyer. The difference between Tarazet and the crowd, though, is that the members of the crowd came back, slowly but surely. The trial started up again and more questions were asked of various people. No matter how many times I looked at the doors, or scoured the audience looking for his chestnut hair and light blue eyes, it was no use. He never came back.

…

A/N: So, I have an outline of the story that goes all the way to the ending and I can say for sure that there are only two chapters left of this story. (Results of the trial are next chapter, in case you were wondering.) Anyways, a huge thank you to tibys, angelofire, Mark Darcy, Lizard Demon from Pluto and SchwarzShifter for reviewing!

Disclaimer: I couldn't stop thinking about the funeral in _The Great Gatsby_ while planning the scene where Seginus and Matar are buried, so I stuck in an allusion to it. Tarazet's line "They said that when a man gets killed they never like to get mixed up in it in any way" is a paraphrasing of Meyer Wolfsheim's line "When a man gets killed I never like to get mixed up in it in anyway."


	40. The Trial

_**One Day at a Time**_

**The Trial**

At my next day of trial, testimony was read from Harry describing what he had seen of me in the battle at Hogwarts. Harry was too busy to come to the courtroom, my lawyer said, but his testimony was to be the cornerstone of my case, the only evidence to stand contrary to my position as a captured Death Eater.

Despite my hopeful glancing at the audience members, Tarazet wasn't among them.

* * *

My lawyer was analyzing Harry's testimony, arguing that my saving Harry's life clearly showed I was on the "right" side, the Ministry's side, and releasing me would actually be beneficial to the cause.

Another day, and Tarazet still wasn't there.

* * *

The prosecuting lawyer was arguing that I could have confounded Harry, and that I could be taking credit for Seginus's death even if an Auror killed him. He argued that in such a dangerous time, the Ministry could not afford to let Death Eaters free if there was so much as a scrap of evidence against them.

Still no Tarazet.

* * *

Dumbledore was called as a character witness. He gave a brief speech about how I was certainly not on the Death Eater side, because I harbored nothing but positive feelings towards Muggles and Muggle-borns; he described my friendship with the Muggle-born witch Paige Collins while I was a student.

Still no one.

* * *

The prosecution retaliated by describing how my mother and father were both avowed pureblood supremacists, as were my two oldest brothers, while Deneb was currently on trial for being a Death Eater and Tarazet had donated large sums of counterfeited galleons to prominent Death Eaters. If this was my family, the prosecutor implied, who's to say I didn't share their beliefs? The judge said that it was my beliefs, not my family's beliefs, that mattered to the trial, but the jury was nodding along to the prosecutor and giving me shrewd judgmental looks.

.

* * *

The prosecutor tried another way to discredit Dumbledore's testimony, this time bringing in witnesses against Dumbledore's character. Dumbledore was too trusting, too optimistic, he saw the best of people even when it wasn't real, they argued. Quirrell, the host for The Dark Lord. Lupin, the werewolf. Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Alastor Moody, never suspected for who he actually was. Who's to say Dumbledore wasn't also misjudging my character, they argued.

* * *

My lawyer brought in counter witnesses to counter the counter witnesses against Dumbledore's character. They pledged that Dumbledore was a wonderful judge of people's personalities, and that he always interpreted events and the motives behind them correctly.

* * *

The judge told the lawyers to stop focusing on Dumbledore's reliability and to get back to the point of the trial: me. The prosecution argued one final point about Dumbledore's testimony, saying that even Death Eaters could manage to be polite to Muggles and Muggleborns in day-to-day life.

* * *

The next day my lawyer brought in another witness, one who had been too busy to come earlier: Severus Snape. My eyes stayed glued to him the entire time, but he didn't so much as look in my direction. Instead, he intently stared at whoever was questioning him and informed them in an emotionless drawl of the night's events. My lawyer argued that Severus's version of events matched Harry's, and therefore they must be true.

* * *

The prosecution gave up on trying to prove Harry and Severus's testimonies to be wrong. Instead, they seized on the details of those testimonies. Both of the witnesses agreed that I had used the Cruciatus curse and Avada Kedavra on Seginus Colburn. Individually, each casting on an Unforgivable was worth a life sentence. Had the court forgotten that?

* * *

My lawyer argued that I had been using the Unforgivables for a good cause, on the side of the Ministry. Seginus had been a wanted criminal, anyway, and by using those I had saved Harry Potter's life, the Chosen one's life! Certainly that was not worth a prison sentence.

* * *

The prosecutor gave his closing argument. I was clearly a Death Eater; I had been discovered as such, and my use of the Unforgivables only proved how easily I used them. Who's to say I wouldn't use them on Aurors or innocent witches and wizards? I deserved a life sentence.

* * *

The jury had departed to make their decision and I was sitting in my holding cell. Soon I would either be released to go back home or I would be transferred to a permanent cell in Azkaban. I felt sick with nerves. In some room not too far away, a handful of people were deciding the course of the rest of my life. Suddenly, I felt rather attached to my holding cell. It was still a cell, but for one thing it was something sure, unlike the uncertainty now facing me. It also had, despite its small, dreary, grey environment, a relative sense of hope that I had never before appreciated—I had a possibility of leaving this dreadful place forever, unlike an Azkaban cell. I almost never wanted to leave the cell simply because of the sense of hope here that would not be present in Azkaban, even if there were no longer any Dementors. The guard informed me that my lawyer was stopping by for a visit, and so he was, bouncing into my holding cell rather cheerfully. "So how do you feel?" he greeted me.

I glowered in return. "I'm waiting for my prison sentence. How do you think I feel?"

"Ah, don't be so negative. I have a good feeling about this one. You had a strong case," he replied in an annoyingly perky tone.

"Juries seem to forget the whole 'innocent-until-proven-guilty' thing for Death Eaters," I refused to let his reasonless cheerfulness rub off on me.

"We'll find out soon enough, won't we? The jury's back in. I've come here to fetch you." Terror shot through my body and I reflexively grabbed onto the frame of the bed I was sitting on so tightly that my knuckles turned white. He seemed to have noticed this for he let out a good-natured laugh and said, "You'll have to loosen your grip eventually, and then we can go to the courtroom."

I stiffly stood up and walked towards the courtroom. During the course of the trial, I had been annoyed that it was taking several weeks to reach its conclusion, but now I almost wished that it had taken longer. The whole situation felt surreal; I don't know how somebody on the way to their execution feels, but I imagine they feel something like I did walking down that hall. I wanted to grasp onto every scrap of life that walked by, notice every sight, hear every sound.

And then the walk was over and I was sitting in the court room, feeling as though any moment I was liable to pass out because I kept forgetting to breath. "How do you find the defendant?" I jumped slightly at the judge's booming question with no preamble.

"For disrupting the peace and for using Unforgivables on Aurors we find her: non-guilty. For the use of the Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra curse on Seginus Colburn, we find her guilty on both accounts," the head juror snapped out each word in a dry, business-like tone.

"Very well, and what is the sentence?" the Judge replied in an equally business-like manner.

"We sentence her to five years in Azkaban." I took in a sharp breath of air. What surreal sounding words.

"Hey, five years! Not bad! I thought you were going to get life," my lawyer cheerfully clapped me on the back.

"You were just telling me that I stood a good chance!" I turned towards him, surprised at his reversal.

"Well of course I'm going to _say_ that," he explained in a tone as though he was talking to a child. "Five years? That's nothing. Take it one day at a time and it'll go by like _that_," he snapped his fingers. "The Ministry thinks this war is going to be wrapped up within five years, so they're probably just being overly cautious by sending you to prison."

Five years was much better than life, but it still seemed to me like a rather long stretch of time. "So what now?"

"Now? You go to the holding cells near the port to Azkaban," he explained with a dismissive gesture of the hand, as though it was a small matter.

* * *

As I found out, they had not changed the holding cells nearby the port since the last time I had been here fifteen years ago, when I had intended to visit Tarazet. The smell of salt still hung in the air, and the perpetual humidity from the ocean breaking against the rocks led to moss covering the walls and the metal of the cell bars slowly corroding. Because this cell was only for the twelve hours before departure there was no bed, only a simple wooden plank attached to the stone wall that was intended to serve as a chair. As to be expected, there was nothing to do in the cell. All I could do was stare at the patterns of moss on the walls, sadly reflect on my memories, or feel claustrophobic that I was enclosed in such a small place.

One patch of moss looked a bit like a snitch if I turned my head to the right and squinted my eyes, but if I turned my head a bit to left, it looked more like a Dementor's hood. I was noticing this, when the guard brusquely informed me that I had a visitor. I looked up at him, shocked. "I know, I'm surprised, too," the guard chuckled in a surprisingly understanding way. "Just about no one knows that visits are allowed to these holding cells. People miss the chance to see their loved ones one last time because they just don't know." I continued giving him a surprised look. Who would be visiting me right before I left for Azkaban? I couldn't imagine that my lawyer would care enough to visit after the trial was finished, but nobody else had visited in quite some time.

A few minutes later the visitor strode into my line of vision. My jaw dropped while the corners of my mouth turned up into a large smile. "Tarazet!" I exclaimed in joyous, disbelieving voice.

My youngest brother greeted me with a half-smile tainted with sadness. "I wanted to say…'Hello' before the start of your sentence. I…I heard about the results of your trial."

"Five years isn't too bad," I almost pleaded, half trying to convince myself.

"No. No, it isn't really," he sadly shrugged his shoulders and seemed as though he was, likewise, trying to convince himself. "There aren't even Dementors there, anymore."

I nodded, and we silently stood on opposite sides of the cell bars for a few moments. A memory flashed in front of my eyes—I, free, and Tarazet behind the cell bars. I had not shown my face, and yet Tarazet had come to visit. I had killed one of our brothers, and he was still here.

"I'm sorry!" my mouth suddenly blurt out. A look of surprise appeared on his features, but I continued before he could say anything. "I'm sorry I didn't show my face before you were taken to Azkaban. I'm sorry I was mad at you and ashamed of you and I'm sorry that I was so petty, and immature, and cowardly and I'm sorry I was so rude to you when you found me again at Hogwarts."

My youngest brother had the look of mild surprise on his features a moment longer before he let out a small laugh. He replied in a tone which indicated he thought what he was saying was so obvious, that it was almost a waste of breath to actually say it. "Liseli, we're friends. You don't have to apologize. I admit, I was quite irate about those things for a while, but of course I'm going to forgive you. What else are friends for?"

I breathed a deep sigh and felt relief course throughout my body. "Really?"

"Of course," he continued in the same obvious tone.

I said my next words quickly, as though afraid I would lose the resolve to say them or that he might interrupt me. "I also want you to know that—that I regret killing Seginus. I don't know what I would do if I was in that situation again, but I don't want you to think that I feel completely guiltless about what I did."

He said in a quieter voice, "I'll get over it, eventually. I'm still mad at you right now—I mean, Merlin, Liseli, he was our brother—but I'm not going to disown you, or completely stop talking to you, or something ridiculous like that."

I closed my eyes and nodded. It felt as though a thousand kilogram weight had just been lifted from my being, as though I had been redeemed. "What's it like?" I quietly asked. "Prison?"

"It'll pass by. And then it'll be over and you can start your life again," he honestly replied. He wasn't going to exaggerate like my lawyer and say that a prison sentence would just fly by. What did my lawyer know? My lawyer had never been imprisoned, I was sure.

"And you'll still be there when I get out?"

A small smile lit up Tarazet's face. "What are friends for?"

…

A/N: So I'm sure at this point you're probably wondering where Snape has been, but no fear! He shall be returning next chapter. Also (heh heh) anyone notice my not-so-subtle reference to the title of the story? And does Tarazet seem to be acting reasonably?

Anyways, thanks so much to tibys, Mark Darcy, angelofire, Leslie, tat1312 and PollyWantCookie for reviewing!


	41. Epilogue

_**One Day at a Time**_

**Epilogue—Five Years Later**

"Has the sun always been this bright?" I stupidly asked, stumbling slightly as I awkwardly strode out of the holding cell enclosure.

"Last I checked," Tarazet grinned at me.

Crowds went bustling past us as we stood on the dusty grey sidewalk, the drab metal and concrete buildings soaring over our heads. To me, though, it seemed as though the world was exploding with color. A golden sun, a rich cerulean sky, even the different colors of the outfits of the people bustling past us. In contrast to Azkaban, everything was rich, alive, changing. I felt as though I had been born again, as though I could have stood there for hours simply staring at the world.

"You'll probably want to be careful about casting spells at first, seeing as you haven't used your wand in five years," my brother interrupted my thoughts with more practical sentiments than my sheer awe.

"Yeah, good point," I distractedly replied, still trying to tear my focus away from things as ordinary as the sky, while reminding myself that it would still be there tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and every day after that.

* * *

With an annoyed sigh, I threw the Daily Prophet's classified section at the kitchen table. Nothing. Again. Then again, what had I been expecting? "Wanted: tutor or teacher who is a convicted ex-Death Eater."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," I followed my spoken sentence with a derisive snort at such a ridiculous idea, before glancing around the kitchen out of an attempt to distract myself. I could still easily distract myself by looking around the rooms of this house—whether it was still "Mother's and Father's" house or whether it had become "Tarazet's" house in my mind I still wasn't quite sure, and perhaps it was the change in décor over the years that intrigued me. No longer filled with small magical trinkets lining every shelf in the house, as it had been during my childhood, it was instead overflowing with folders of neatly scribbled Arithmancy calculations and endless stacks of books.

Whatever the house was like, it was where I was living until I had enough money for my own apartment and I was quite thankful that Tarazet, who could more than sympathize with an endless job search following a prison sentence, didn't mind me staying at his house.

"Really, talking to yourself after only five years in prison?" My brother made reproaching noises as he strolled into the kitchen. "It's supposed to take longer than that for one to go insane."

I gave him a sarcastic look before replying, "If I say something aloud it doesn't mean I'm insane. It's only if I expect a response."

"Ah, but I gave you a response, so does that mean you're insane, now?" he rhetorically asked in a rather light-hearted manner.

I rolled my eyes before allowing a small laugh to escape, "You know very well what I meant."

He flashed a grin in my direction before turning his attention towards the kitchen cupboards, presumably looking for something edible to eat. "Did I tell you who I ran into at work today?"

"Who? A psychiatrist?" I assumed my response was fitting, considering our previous topic of conversation.

"No, unrelated." After successfully finding a box of crackers, he took a seat at the same table I was at and continued his answer, "Your old friend stopped by. Snape."

My eyes opened wide with surprise before I quickly reminded myself that Severus had essentially broken off our friendship (or more-than-friendship, as our case may have been) after my arrest. "What'd he want?" I asked in as disinterested of a tone as I could manage, even pretending to be more interested in the nearby Daily Prophet's classified section than my brother's response.

"He wanted about two dozen quills to be treated with an anti-cheating charm. Seems a bit silly to me, because they can be bought from manufacturers pre-charmed like that," he spoke as though this topic of conversation was only mildly interesting to him.

"Did you point that out to him?" I followed my words with the sound of rearranging the newspaper, just to show how _little_ I cared about Severus, and whatever he was doing.

Tarazet shrugged his narrow shoulders. "No. Business is business. By the way," he accompanied his next words with a smirk, "Your newspaper is upside-down."

A creeping, embarrassment-pink tide crept over my face. "Well, maybe I like the challenge of having to read upside-down," I attempted to cover with a haughty tone, before giving myself away with my next words. "Did Snape say anything else?"

He started balancing on the back two legs of his chair before casually replying, "He asked about you."

After quickly wiping the surprised expression off my face I incredulously replied, "You're toying with me."

A shake of the head. "Nope. He said 'Tell Liseli that purple mountain goats leap at sunrise.'"

I blinked. What on earth? My thoughts quickly formed into a similar spoken word: "What?"

A creeping grin and a stifled laugh gave away his next words, "Okay, that last part was toying with you, but he did ask about you." I gave him a quick glare to remind him that I was quite capable of murder, before he replied in a slightly more serious tone, "He said, and I quote, 'How's your sister?'"

After a few second gap in which Tarazet didn't add anything, I expectantly replied, "And?"

"Really, I imagine you know the answer to that yourself. If you mean what I said, I said, quote, 'She's fine.'"

"And?" I expectantly repeated my word, hoping there was something more to the conversation.

"And he said he would stop by tomorrow to pick up the charmed quills." Tarazet was still rocking on the back two legs of his chair and I was seized with a sudden urge to slam all four of the legs down, just to keep him from looking as though this was all such a casual, light matter. "Want me to tell him anything for you?"

"No," I said stubbornly, "Because according to Snape, at least, we're not friends anymore."

"Oh?" An invitation talk more, if I wanted to. That, or at least inform him what exactly he was standing in the middle of.

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled, picking up the newspaper again and, this time, making sure it was right-side up.

* * *

Next evening, the characteristic _crack_ of an apparition rang out in the living room and, as nonchalantly as I could, I strolled by to see that Tarazet had appeared. "How was work?" I casually asked.

He seemed mildly surprised that I had appeared in the living room mere seconds after he had and briefly replied, "It was fine. Your non-friend stop by again."

"Did you make a good profit off the quills?" I decided to pretend that I didn't care about my "non-friend", and that hearing about him was certainly not my motive in asking about my brother's work day.

"More a shining sickle than a glittering galleon, but business is business." He gave me an amused look before adding, "And I'm sure your deep fascination with Dunkel and Finster's profit margin is what prompted your inquiry, and nothing else, right?"

"Er—of course," I lied rather non-smoothly, knowing that my brother would have been able to see through my words, anyway.

"So I'm sure you won't care if I mention that Snape asked where you were working," he said, his casual tone perfectly mimicking mine. I winced and squeezed the bridge of my nose with two of my fingers; "unemployed" had such a bad ring to it. "And I'm sure you won't care that he asked if you ever stop by Dunkel and Finster's," Tarazet continued.

"What was Snape's tone?" I asked, almost suspicious. Derisive? Avoidant? He certainly hadn't cared about seeing me before my prison sentence, so it wouldn't surprise me if he wanted to avoid me.

A shrug in response. "I don't know. It was his neutral tone."

"How does he seem? I mean, uh, does he seem like he's doing okay?" I asked in what I hope came off as a disinterested manner. It made no sense for me to still care about Severus, and I stubbornly insisted on telling myself that, as such, I did not care about him.

"He looked the same as when I saw him however many years ago," his tone was a cross between amusement and impatience, "Really, if you care about how he is you could always just owl him."

"I don't care," I snapped. "Besides, I can't just owl him after five years; it's been a long time. He probably barely remembers me." _And what if he's with someone else, now?_ I unwillingly thought. My heart gave a pang, which I quickly scolded myself for.

* * *

Another few days of scouring the classifieds and debating whether I could be an independent tutor again led me to a day where Tarazet started a conversation with the words, "I think soon Hogwarts is going to have the most secure testing environment in existence."

A bit taken aback by the lack of context, I inquired, "What do you mean?"

"Your friend—sorry, non-friend—stopped by to have some potions' tests charmed with anti-cheating charms," he nonchalantly replied.

"Snape?" I whipped all of my attention towards my brother.

"As far as I gather, he's still the only potions professor at Hogwarts so, yes, him," he replied nonchalantly.

"How is he?" my mouth said, seemingly of its own volition.

Tarazet gave a small laugh. "You and him seem to both lack creativity when it comes to small talk. He asked how you were again, also."

"Oh," I replied, somewhat embarrassed. Had he really asked about me again? It seemed completely contradictory to his actions five years ago, as though nothing was making sense. "Unrelated, do you, uh, have any need for an extra hand around the store?" I tried to ask disinterestedly, while telling myself that the least I could do was find out what Snape was up to.

A knowing smirk on his face, he responded, "Replying to your completely _selfless_ inquiry to help out, yes, I'm sure there's some stocking you could do."

* * *

Shoving item upon item onto the narrow, rickety shelves lining Dunkel and Finster's was, really, quite boring. Besides the occasional challenge of reading the omnipotent, faded spider webs of words which labeled the shelves, and attempting to cram fragile objects onto the already overflowing shelves, the job was quite mindless. I was starting to think that I had gone quite mad to volunteer for this when I heard the jingle of yet another customer entering the store.

Despite my surreptitious peeking between the shelves, I couldn't see who was walking towards the front desk, and I had to satisfy myself with carefully listening while I continued shelving. The slow drawl I heard practically made me drop the continually water-filled flower vase I was shoving onto a shelf.

"Hello, Colburn. I believe I dropped off some items to be charmed yesterday."

"That you did," came my brother's voice, "The sum is, let's see, 2 galleons and 3 sickles for 25 potions tests."

There was the sound of clinking coins and quiet counting. I hadn't been intending to eavesdrop, but somehow I couldn't think of a way to burst out from behind the shelves without seeming terribly awkward. What if Snape didn't even want to see me? I was debating this when I heard his quiet, precise drawl again, "Tell me, Colburn, does your sister still accept owls at her London address?"

A pause. Was Tarazet expecting me to answer his question? The sound of coins being slid into a cash register followed, and then my brother's factual words, "No. No, she doesn't."

"Oh," was the Potion Master's one-word response, only that one word was packed with emotion: disappointed, crestfallen and simultaneously hinting, pushing for a longer response, such as where I could be owled.

"She—er—does except verbal messages, however," I blurt out as I stepped into the area with the front desk.

"Liseli," Severus spoke my name with an expression of mild shock on his face, before quickly recovering a neutral facial expression. "How—how do you do?"

"Er—I'm fine," I awkwardly replied, turning over the object in my hands that I had been about to shelve next. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," came his succinct response.

Tarazet muttered something that sounded like a sarcastic version of "What creative small talk," before disappearing into the storage room.

With a glance towards the object in my hands, Severus smirked, "I see you've done quite the number on poor Yorick."

It struck me then that the charmed object I was turning over in my hands was what looked like a human skull (undoubtedly made out of plaster, I told myself). "I didn't do this," my words spilled out in a rush. Surely he didn't think I was an active murderer?

"I didn't mean that literally," his unperturbed words reached my ear. "It's—oh, Yorick's from Hamlet, not Macbeth. It's Macbeth that you've read, never mind then."

I looked the hopefully fake skull in the eyes, studying its sharp sockets and noseless visage. "Snape," I said, my thoughts finally turning into spoken words, "Why did you call me Liseli at the beginning of this conversation?"

He seemed a bit taken aback and simply replied, "It's your name."

"I'm aware. I just mean the last time I saw you it was 'Colburn' and barely a look in my direction." I continued to focus all of my attention on the skull, as though afraid he would suddenly say, 'Why, you're right! What am I doing being polite to you?'

Instead he gave me an incredulous sort of look that might have normally been reserved for first years who didn't know monkshood and wolfsbane were the same plant. "You never realized why I did that?"

"Er—no," I replied, feeling exactly like a first year who was too unintelligent to know that monkshood and wolfsbane were the same plant.

He placed his hands over mine, which were still grasping the skull. I looked up at his dark eyes, surprised to see such a show of relative tenderness. "I was afraid of invalidating my testimony by showing that I was biased for you. Even when I met with you before your trial, I knew that guards monitored the meeting room."

"You still could have been a bit nicer," I mumbled, feeling rather stupid, now, "I've spent the last five years thinking you hated me."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed in a very Severus-ish sort of way.

"Do you, uh, want to get a cup of coffee or something?" I hazarded, still focusing my attention on the skull in my hands, and the feeling of his warm hands pressed against mine. "That is—if five years isn't too long for you."

"The past five years have been long," he stated slowly, thoughtfully, "Long, because with every day that passed, there were still so many days left until your sentence ended. And then—the five years were up, and I didn't know what to do. I decided to try and learn about what your life was like now before contacting you, because I thought maybe you would have moved on and forgotten me."

"Don't be ridiculous," I smirked. I made to place the skull down, and his hands moved with mine until the skull found a resting place on a nearby shelf. "There's a nice little café down the street, if you want to go, now," I ventured.

There was something immensely peaceful about strolling down the cobblestone streets of Knockturn alley next to Sev, the afternoon sun reflecting off of the storefronts' windows, only a few people leisurely milling about the narrow street. His fingers lightly brushed against my hand before carefully intertwining with my fingers as we sat down at the café.

"Can I see something?" I ventured, curious.

With a single slightly raised eyebrow he replied, "Go ahead," clearly unsure what I was planning.

I gently unbuttoned his left cuff and pushed the sleeve up a few inches. "Yours has faded, too," I murmured, my index finger softly tracing the curved outline of his Dark Mark.

His quiet response carried a matter-of-fact tone, "The war has been over for several years,"

"I know. But I still find it hard to believe, sometimes. I keep expecting to see it as black as charcoal," my words continued in their hushed tone. Even in Knockturn Alley and with no fear of being arrested, this still didn't seem like the type of conversation to broadcast.

"Do you think it'll ever fade completely?" Sev had now reciprocated my motions and was regarding the Dark Mark emblazoned on my left forearm.

"Completely?" I paused, before pensively continuing, "I almost hope not. It doesn't seem like that'd be very accurate."

"What do you mean by 'accurate'?" he repeated, puzzled.

I gave a slight shrug with my explanation of my word choice, "Whether we like it or not, it's still a part of who we are."

"Just don't go mad thinking about it," he gave a small smirk before taking my hand in his again and gently whispering, "My Lady Macbeth."

A smile burst onto my face as I gazed into his eyes. "Only if you promise the same." I gave a small laugh as a new thought struck me, "You know, I bet if someone walked by and saw our Dark Marks out they'd probably think we were two enthusiastic former Death Eaters, reminiscing about old times."

"People can be dunderheads," he dryly responded.

"Well, I wouldn't use the word dunderheads." He raised one eyebrow in a reproaching way before I continued, "I'd say lazy." He gave an approving smirk at this, which my face quickly mimicked in the form of a smile before I continued my words, "People stop at appearances, at what seems simple, and fail to realize the complexity that is actually behind it."

"Simplicity rarely exists. The word itself is useless," Sev scoffed.

"Yes, I suppose so." I continued softly tracing the outline of his Dark Mark with my index finger. "Perhaps it's for the best, though. A simple world would be awfully boring."

_Fin_

…

A/N: This is officially the end of "One Day at a Time," but certainly not the end of my writing plans! I encourage everyone to check out my new account (just message me and I'll tell you the name), where I already have 7 stories posted, and where I will eventually be posting a complete re-write of this story.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed (for last chapter, specifically, thanks to tibys, BEN-Beyond-The-Elusive-Nomad, Mark Darcy, Leslie, tat1312 and PollyWantCookie). Thanks also to all of you silent readers—you who have put this story on story or alert or your favorites list, and even to those of you who have just silently been reading along. I'd love to hear from all of you, even just a two word review!


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